A Question of Time
by TheResurrectionist
Summary: Sequel to "A Certain 'Je Ne Sais Quoi'". After the showdown with Adam, things still aren't the same for Sam and Dean. Being a prince doesn't always help, though. Someone from Sam's past is trying to come back, and there's a strange man following Dean around. Rated T for now. Sam/Dean and Misha/Gabriel.
1. Chapter 1

A/N So, this is the beginning of the sequel! It's a shortie! Thanks to everyone who reviewed JNSQ-wanna try your hand at this one?:)

* * *

_Translated from Belgian headlines, May 2008_

_CROWN PRINCE DISAPPEARS UNDER MYSTERIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES_

_Monday morning the royal press released an official statement declaring their son and Crown Prince Sam Reynard a missing person. Authorities are stumped by the young, bright prince's mysterious disappearance. Foul play is not suspected at this time, but authorities are still investigating. Little is known at this time._

* * *

Present Day

"And you're not going to eat that?" Misha cried out indignantly as Sam poked at the food on his plate, nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Why the hell would I eat _that_?" Sam asked, nudging the jell-o one last time. The green cup jiggled on the dish, shiny under the hospital lights. Misha huffed dramatically and grabbed the plate from Sam, rolling his eyes.

"This," Misha said, emphasizing the word, "Is heaven. You're telling me you don't like jell-o?" He asked, glancing at Dean like this was his fault. Dean shrugged back at his friend, content to lean back and enjoy the sight of Misha belittling Sam.

Sam shook his head at the question, and Dean's amusement grew as he noticed a soft blush in the man's cheeks. Misha grabbed the fork on the table next to his bed, shoveling in with the decency of a pack mule.

"You know," Misha said around a mouthful of jell-o. "My mom always told me to practice my table manners because I might eat with royalty one day." He smirked, piece of jell-o on the corner of his mouth. "Funny."

Sam shook his head in amusement, curiosity plain on his face. Dean let out a bark of laughter at that. Misha was a strange creature to witness indeed.

A soft cough at the door and Misha turned pale. Gabriel was standing there in his lab coat, trying in vain to keep a straight face. Misha looked like a scolded child, emphasized by the smears of jell-o still around his mouth.

"Having fun?" Gabriel asked as he walked in, going over to check Sam's charts as usual. After a few days in the hospital, this was starting to become routine. Dean, however, had a sneaking suspicion that Misha looked forward to them.

"Always." Sam murmured softly, gesturing at Misha's face. "Apparently I should burn at the stake for disliking jell-o." He said, and Dean noticed that his accent slipped a little bit. It had been doing that lately, when the pain had gotten too much or Sam was just plain tired. If the circumstances that surrounded it had been different, Dean would have found it sexy, but Sam's pinched face worried him.

Gabriel gave Sam a cursory look, eyes sharp as he looked up and down the bandages wrapped around his side. Satisfied, he turned to Dean.

"Mind if I steal Misha?" He asked, eyes filled with just the smallest amount of humor. Misha frowned but got up, saluting Sam as he left.

"Farewell, my friends." The ex-secretary declared with a desperate face. "Never forget me!"

Sam and Dean both rolled their eyes at his antics, smiling fondly as Gabriel led the man down the hallway. Even though they hadn't brought it up seriously, both of them were happy their friends had found each other. Now, all they were waiting for was for them to take the next step.

Sam turned to Dean once they were out of sight, still smiling a little. "Hey." He said simply, word soft. Dean shifted, laying next to Sam on the bed lightly so he wouldn't cause him more pain.

"Hey." He replied, leaning up. Sam pressed a small kiss onto his lips, deepening it after a few seconds. Dean smiled against Sam's lips, leaning in closer.

It'd been days since Adam's death, and Dean knew his lover still hadn't recovered from it. Dean himself could barely focus, mind still flashing back to that terrible day. Too much blood had been shed, cliched as it sounded, and that left a mark on you.

Sam kissed him tenderly, then, seeking comfort and offering it in return. The room was warm, and everything seemed perfect. In fact, if Sam hadn't been-

A sharp sound broke them apart, and Dean stared in confusion as the door, having bounced off of the far wall, opened to reveal an unfamiliar face. He was carrying something, something almost like a-

Suddenly, crowds of cameras and what looked like reporters were standing outside of their room, cameras flashing and questions being shouted. Dean heard Sam's name being thrown around and groaned, realizing what had happened. He tried to shield Sam's face, but they were like vultures, shoving cameras in all different places. Sam shrunk in, pain flashing across his face as his stitches pulled. Dean felt a wave of anger pass through him, but he could barely protect Sam as it was.

The reporters pushed forwards, throwing microphones and tape recorders into Sam's face. A couple people even tried to manhandle Dean out of the way, and Dean had just been ready to throw a punch when Gabriel's shout broke the chaos.

"Get the fuck out!" The man screamed from the doorway, two security guards standing behind him. The reporters didn't notice him at first, but Gabriel ran forward and threw the closest camera to Sam to the floor. It shattered, causing all of the reporters to quiet and stare. Gabriel was breathing heavy as he pointed at the door, Misha standing right behind him with a shocked expression on his face.

"Get the hell out. Right the fuck now." Gabriel gritted between his teeth, fury sharp in his eyes. "Before I have you all arrested. Right the fuck now."

* * *

A/N Ahaha! Teaser. You like? More to come!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N So, firstly, this chap is devoted to Angelical devil, Leviathan Castiel and Hatman, without whom it would not be existing or coherent. Thanks for all the reviews and follows, guys! This is really happening, huh?

* * *

**_Interview with reporter Anna Novak, 3:57 pm, Friday. Excerpt. _**

_A: How would you describe the recent-and terribly tragic-accident that has claimed the life of Adam Reynard? _

_0: Horrendous, obviously. Losing a son like that...well, it's indescribable. Losing a beloved prince is even worse, when they're the figurehead of your country and more. Adam was an amazing young man, and my thoughts and prayers go out to the royal family._

_A: And yet you're still continuing to attempt to pass the bill to make monarchies such as Belgium's obsolete?_

_0: (Pause) That has no importance at this moment. I only mean to wish them well. _

_A: But still-_

_0: Like I said. My heart goes out to the royal family, especially the King and Queen. This is a hard time for everyone._

_A: Sir, please-_

_0: Thank you for the interview. Please excuse me._

* * *

The moment Gabriel saw the cameras sneaking into Sam's room, his vision went red. Misha's hand grasped his shoulder as he turned to run, but he shrugged it off. Pushing the security button on the aid's desk, Gabriel ran to Sam's room as quickly as possible.

Two guards joined him, stoic as Gabriel tried to push through the crowd. They stood behind him as Gabriel screamed at the crowd, anger palpable.

"Get the fuck out!" He shouted, waving at the door. A few confused faces met his, but most of the reporters were ignoring him. Cameras were being shoved in Sam's, even Dean's face, and Gabriel's fury increased as a flash of pain appeared on Sam's face from the jostling. The reporters were merciless, shouting questions and slamming microphones into their faces.

Dean's distressed face met his across the sea of heads, and Gabriel screamed even louder, throwing all the authority and force into his words as possible. Nobody listened, and Gabriel felt something akin to panic rise inside of him as Sam flinched away from the nearest camera, Dean's hand covering his face.

He rushed forward, quick as a snake and threw the camera to the floor, property damages be damned. The startled camera operator stared at him, hands still in front to hold the broken camera.

Humph. That got their attention.

"Get the hell out. Right the fuck now." He said between gritted teeth, glaring at each and every one of the reporters. "Before I have you all arrested."

Nobody doubted his threat.

One face at the front looked dubious, a pretty-boy anchor Gabriel vaguely remembered seeing on the news, but Gabriel was having none of that.

"Right the fuck now." He told them, and jabbed a hand at the door where the two guards stood, one on each side as the reporters slowly filed out.

Gabriel stood in the center of the room, staring down the reporters as they left. Sam's face was still covered by Dean's hand, and a small whimper broke the room as Sam shifted.

God. The sheer nerve of those reporters. If Gabriel could…

He broke off that thought as Misha entered the room, blue eyes wide. He closed the door behind him softly, nodding at the guards standing outside the door.

The last thing they needed was more bloodshed.

Dean stood up once the door closed, gently cradling Sam's face before releasing the man, turning a furious gaze on Gabriel.

"What the fuck was that!" He screamed, almost louder than Gabriel. He looked angry, angrier than Gabriel had ever seen the man. Ex-janitor or not, if he had been trained, even Gabriel would have taken a step back.

"I don't know." Gabriel replied, feeling a kinship in their anger, oddly enough.

"I mean, how the hell did they even know he was here?!" Dean asked, pointing at the door. "They shouldn't know he's here at all! I thought you had this under wraps!" He shouted at Gabriel.  
Gabriel felt vicious fury rise up inside of him, but didn't reply straight away. Truthfully, he did have it under wraps. Nobody knew Sam was here, not even his family. He'd used fake names, fake bank accounts, everything. He'd been precise, not willing to slip up again when it came to on of the most precious thing in his life.

"I did." Gabriel said sternly. "Dean, I had it all secret. Nothing would have seemed out of the ordinary. There's no way they could've found us, unless…" He trailed off, horror curling in his gut.

Dean's face went pale as Gabriel thought, and his worried "What?" echoed as Gabriel closed his eyes, lips shaping a French swear.

"Unless someone tipped them off. Somebody who knew about Sam." He said, opening his eyes to glance at the man in question. Sam frowned, and Gabriel could see his mind whirring as he counted off the people they knew, the people who might even have had the slightest chance of figuring out who they were.

"The only people who know about us are in this room." Sam said, voice low. Gabriel could still see pain in his eyes, hidden but leaking through. He realized it'd almost been time to give Sam his afternoon meds, meaning he had gone without them for a while now.

Dean turned, glaring at Misha before the other man held up his hands at the predatory gaze. Dean was like an attack dog all of a sudden, ready to defend Sam to the death. "Not me." Misha said sincerely, hands raised still. "Ask Gabe. I've been here the whole time."

Gabriel saw a little hurt flash in his blue eyes at the thought of Dean assuming he'd betrayed them. Dean apparently saw it too, because he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  
"I know man. I'm sorry." He said, voice muffled by the hand he ran down his face. "I'm sorry. It's just…"

Misha smiled a little at that. "I know, man."

Dean smiled back, but the grin slipped from his face as his eyes ran across Sam again. He turned to Gabriel, volume softer.

"Are we going to have to move him now?" He asked, green eyes filled with worry. He'd moved over to Sam, standing in front of him like Gabriel and Misha were the next threat.

Gabriel wanted to tell him it was the opposite, but raised an eyebrow, prompting him to go on.

"They know where he is now. And, from my American TV experience, reporters don't just go away." Dean said rationally, and Gabriel could see the sense in his words. "They're gonna come back. And this time with a whole lot more stuff."

Misha piped up. "And now that you've made a big deal about this morning, they're going to have to ramp it up. It's television."

Gabriel nodded, worry flooding him at the thought of the reporters coming back. Sure, they didn't have guns and they didn't have knives, but they had cameras, and God knows what the limits with those were.

"Then we move soon." Gabriel said, already racking his brain for the next location. He knew they couldn't go back to the cottage, not even if it was safe. Too many memories, even if they'd only spent a few days there.

"Where to?" Misha asked, still standing by the door. Gabriel thought back to their conversation before, about the future. Now was the last time Misha could back out, and it looked like he wasn't going to.

Gabriel ignored the small swell of pride in his chest as Misha's clear eyes met his.

"I don't know." He admitted. "There are a ton of safe houses, but I don't know any I feel comfortable using. Not after…"

Nobody mentioned it.

Sam shifted, but didn't say anything. Gabriel saw his heart rate monitor climb a little bit, and felt bad for bringing it up.

Silence filled the room, awkward as an elephant. They all gazed at their hands, unsure of their next move.

"Actually," Dean said, surprising Gabriel. "I might have somewhere."

Gabriel looked at him sharply, hoping but still cautious. "Who?"

Dean smiled, but it was tinged with bitterness. "A friend. We can trust them, I'm sure."

The words were said with such conviction that Gabriel didn't argue. He knew Dean would protect Sam with everything he had, and wouldn't put false hope on someone they couldn't trust.

"Is Sam well enough to move?" Misha asked thoughtfully, glancing at Sam's obvious discomfort now peeking out. Gabriel checked the bedside table, frustrated when he realized Sam's meds were outside in the aid's cart.

"I will be." Sam said, sitting up a little more, just to prove his point. He glanced at Gabriel before he could disagree, eyes determined. Gabriel sighed, realizing there was no way around his stubbornness.

"He will be." Gabriel agreed. "But only if you take your pain pills. Including the antibiotics for at least a week, got it?"

He directed his words more at Sam, but Dean nodded as well. Gabriel smiled to himself as he realized Sam had gained another mother hen.

Dean turned back around to Sam, sitting down gently in the bed next to him. He put a hand on Sam's face, tenderness appearing in his movements, juxtaposition to his earlier anger.

Gabriel softly grabbed Misha's shoulder, pulling him out of the room silently as the couple talked. Gabriel carefully watched Dean, but the man's anger seemed to have completely faded. They shut the door, Misha leaning against the wall. The guards had disappeared, off to do something else. A part of Gabriel just wanted to scream at them about how important the men in that room were, and how much they deserved, but he didn't.

"When do we leave?" Misha asked solemnly, gazing at the floor.

"Soon as I can get everything together." Gabriel replied.

* * *

Dean sat in the back of the car with Sam, checking on him every few minutes as they drove. The meds hadn't kicked in all the way yet, but Dean could see Sam's eyelids drooping, and knew that was a good sign. Even though Sam had insisted he was fine earlier, Dean knew he hadn't been the only relieved one when the short doctor had turned up with his missing medications.

Gabriel was currently driving, Misha riding shotgun as the two talked quietly over public radio. A small pang of longing went through Dean as he remembered the beauty his car had been.

Truthfully, he didn't even know where her remains were now, and that kind of scared him. She had been a gorgeous car.

Sam shifted a little where he was laying in Dean's arms, hair soft against his arms. He seemed on the edge of sleep now, eyes closed and face relaxed. Dean smiled a little as he saw Sam sigh, finally in the land of sleep. He petted the man's hair softly, girly feelings be damned.

Dean was pretty sure he loved the man in his arms.

He should probably tell Sam that.

Gabriel looked back for a second at a red light, eyes sharp as always. He met Dean's eyes for a second before looking at the now-sleeping Sam. Misha looked sleepy in the front seat, and Dean guessed it was gonna be just him and Gabriel in a little bit.

"Which highway?" Gabriel murmured, driving up to the on-ramps. Dean pointed out the correct ramp and then settled down against Sam's warm side, careful not to jostle him too much.

Misha fell asleep a few miles later, drowsy blue eyes finally closing. Dean saw Gabriel glance at the man with something akin to affection, and laughed to himself. Sam was right when he said there was something going on between the two.

"So, who's the man we're crashing?" Gabriel joked softly from the front seat.

Dean smiled. "An old friend my Dad used to know." He said simply, the word _Dad _tasting bitter in his mouth. "He worked in the marines with him. Tough old sumbitch, he used to say."

"And you trust him?" Was Gabriel's only response.

Dean nodded. "Yeah." He said softly. Bobby had been there for him so many times, and even now, five or so years later, Dean knew he still would be.

Gabriel smiled a little, gold eyes catching Dean's in the mirror. "Well, anyone you trust Deano, is a friend of mine."

Dean nodded again, looking out the window above Sam's head. He hadn't seen the place in years, but goddamned if it didn't feel good now.

* * *

Sam woke a few hours into the ride, tired and still a little pained. Dean carefully gave him his next meds, knowing the medications made Sam drowsy and secretly loving all the extra cuddling it entailed. As predicted, Sam fell asleep a few minutes later, hair soft against Dean's arm as he snuggled in.

Misha woke up the next hour, sleep mussed but cheery as he coaxed Gabriel into a game of "I spy". Dean had to stifle his chuckles when Gabriel whapped Misha across the head lightly, fed up with the ridiculous game.

The house was still pretty far away, so Dean tucked his head under Sam's chin and curled up with him on the seat, no small feat for two grown men. Together, they drifted off to the soft murmur of Gabriel's voice.

* * *

Balthazar was pissed, and these days he was beginning to think that was his modus operandi, but hey. He was beautiful, intelligent and fully capable. It was insulting to be thrown into anything he didn't approve of, and he sure as hell didn't approve of where he was now.

His back ached as he shifted against the hospital bed, sending bolts of pain into his legs and arms. The damn beds were painful looking in the movies, but to actually have to spend time on one?

That's hell if anyone thought they knew.

Plus, it was as cold as everlasting fuck in his room. The damn nurse with the bad teeth had brought him a blanket a few hours ago, but it was thin and he was probably already paying thirty bucks for it as a "cough suppressant" or some stupid shit like that.

Balthazar didn't use to cuss this much either, but getting shot changed that.

He still couldn't move his shoulder all the way around, and the doctor told him it was foolish to try. Balthazar hated him, to be honest. Some little snot-nosed bastard doctor wasn't going to tell him how to live his life, god fucking damn.

To think this was all because of that...that _man. _That little blonde-haired midget of a supervising doctor. _Watch my dogs, and these cats. _He'd said. _No really, here's the keys. I'm your supervisor._

Balthazar hated when doctors pulled rank. Just because he was a few steps from his full potential...jesus.

If Balthazar had been a normal person, the part of that fateful day he would've been mulling over should've been the fight scene.

Where HE, Balthazar, came out victorious, by the way. He was a sneaky bastard, after all. Sadly, they'd taken his knife away when they bandaged his shoulder, and didn't that just blow.

So, instead of mulling over that, Balthazar was focusing on his hate for all things short and blonde when a clattering of feet sounded outside of his door.

Curious, he leaned forward in his bed, not recognizing the shoes. That was one of the things he'd started to memorize, which really meant he needed to get out soon.

The door slid open without much ceremony, and Balthazar began to feel a small pulse of fear as a mask-covered face greeted his. He frowned, trying to comprehend why a man wearing a ski mask and a...holy shit.

There was a gun in his hand.

Terrified, Balthazar did the only rational thing and grabbed the aid's alarm, pressing down hard until the light flashed. His heart beat faster as the man walked forward, pointing the gun until it was aiming at Balthazar's chest.

Which was humiliated by the shabby hospital clothing. Where were his v-necked t-shirts when you needed them?

"You killed my brother." A thickly-accented voice grumbled out from below the ski mask.

Not able to resist his sarcastic wit, Balthazar parried. "Yeah, yeah. And prepare to die. Can't we just work this out, my friend?"

No response from the man, but the gun twitched a little in his hand, and that made Balthazar nervous.

"Listen, buddy, I didn't kill anyon-"

The silencer _popped_, and a small bullet hole appeared in the wall above Balthazar's head. Swallowing, he decided to let the fine man speak.

"You kill my brother, you bastard." The man growled. "I kill you for him. Your blood for his."

And didn't that sound like a bad action novel right in a nutshell.

Putting his hands up in the air, Balthazar began to pray. He had killed someone, sure, but that man had been asking for it, sneaking into someone's house to try and kill them...

"It was self defense!" Balthazar told him, anxious. "I was just feeding the goddamn cats, jesus-"

_Pop, pop!_ And Balthazar wasn't sure why he'd thought his shoulder had hurt before, because this hurt so much worse, like fire in his belly. Blood began to weep through his clothes, and he looked down to see two holes in his chest.

"You _bastard!"_ He said, outraged before the pain began to kick in and he gasped, wondering why no one was here to save him, he was in a goddamned hospital, jesus-

And right before he died, Balthazar knew he had two things to show for his life.

Beauty, and _fucking cats._

* * *

The second the house came into view, Gabriel saw Dean's face tighten a little bit. His suspicion flared a little bit a that, but if Dean trusted whoever this was, Gabriel had to extend his trust as well. They just didn't have that many options.

He parked next to an old junker, curious about the cars that seemed to have been abandoned around the yard. A sign lay on the fence in the distance, but it was too far away for Gabriel to make out.

Misha hopped out of the car when it slid to a stop, teetering precariously before smiling at Gabriel to let him know he was good. They were doing that a lot lately, just trading glances and smiles without saying anything. Something always twinged inside Gabriel, but he couldn't take it farther, that kiss had been a mistake, it really had been. Gabriel couldn't take it farther, couldn't. It was pathetic, and bad for them both, but that was just how it had to be.

Dean shook a still-sleeping Sam awake in the backseat, bringing the drowsy man out of the car door gently. Gabriel admired Dean's support, and knew it was pure. Sam was Gabriel's most prized possession, but something told him he was sharing the tall man with Dean now and forever.

They all turned to the old house, trepidation obvious. Dean rolled his shoulders once before walking up the porch, the rest of them following behind almost numbly. They could see the tension in Dean, and knew no matter how assured Dean was of this person, not all was well.

After the doorbell rang, a set of boots thundered down stairs before locks sounded on the door. Suddenly, the door opened to reveal a gruff old man, ball cap and jeans grimy.

"Dean?" The man asked, eyebrows going all the way into his hair. He sounded surprised, but more than that. Almost relieved.

Dean smiled, stepping forward almost tentatively, as if Bobby was gonna shoot him or something.

"Hey Bobby."

* * *

A/N Thanks for all the follows, guys!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N So, muchos gracias to my beta, who always brings the light to my life and lets me bounce ideas off of them at three in the morning. Not a lot of followers so far, but I've been told JNSQ's original description was misleading, so hey!:)

* * *

**Official Discharge: Private Robert Singer**

**Date: November 21st, 1998**

**The above mentioned officer is hereby Honorably Discharged from the military service of the United States of America. This certificate is awarded as a testimonial of Honest and Faithful service to his country. **

**Awards:**** Medal of Honors, Defense Distinguished Service Medal. **

* * *

The surprise and emotion of the moment finally got to Bobby, and he reached an arm to pull the young man into his arms. Dean didn't fit under his chin anymore, and Bobby felt a strange sense of nostalgia pass over him. Dean had grown, in more ways than one, and the man standing in front of him was a far cry from the scared boy he'd helped half a decade ago.

"It's good to see you, son." He said painfully, refusing to be choked up with emotion. He held onto the boy for longer than necessary, only pulling away when he remembered his other guests. Deans muttered something under his breath as they parted, eyes suspiciously bright.

Bobby's gaze passed over three men, automatically checking them for weapons and the like. The man in the front was short, with honey-brown hair that curled around his ears and sharp gold eyes that watched him warily. Next to him stood a dark haired man with shockingly blue eyes, standing a few feet behind the first man like he was in charge. Bobby noted this as he eyed the last man, lifting an eyebrow at his height. This last one stood at least a couple inches taller than Dean, brown hair wavy and full. Slanted, multi-colored eyes gazed back at him edged with pain.

"Who's this?" Bobby asked Dean, gesturing at the group behind him.

"Friends." Dean said, apparently in control of his emotions now. He shifted on the porch slightly, looking uncomfortable. Bobby didn't say anything about that, just gestured for them to follow him inside.

"Why don't y'all come in and sit down." He said as he turned, invitation clear. Bobby looked over his shoulder in amusement as the taller one had to duck to get in. The smile turned to a frown as the boy stumbled, pain flashing across his face as he held a hand to his abdomen. Dean was at the other man's side in a second, grabbing his arm and steering him towards the couch.

"Sit down." He heard Dean say, murmuring to the boy in soft tones. The boy gasped slightly as he sat down, curling up slowly. The other men looked worried as well, but let Dean take over. Wordlessly, Dean looked up at the shorter blonde man as he maneuvered the boy's head into his lap, running a tender hand through his hair. The blonde man tossed Dean a bottle of pills deftly, walking over to the (now visible) kitchen to grab water. Bobby beat him there, handing him a glass before he could ask.

"Here." He said, getting a strained smile in response. The three men instantly turned their attention back to the tall boy on the couch, paying Bobby almost no heed.

Not like it mattered to him, really. The boy was obviously in pain, a stomach wound if Bobby guessed right. The pills knocked the poor kid out almost instantly, dropping his head into Dean's lap with small sigh, echoed in the look of relief on Dean's face.

Once the tension in the room dispersed, Bobby stepped forward.

"So, you gonna tell me what that's all about?" He asked curiously. Dean grimaced, waving at the other two men to sit. Bobby turned to see them glaring at his tone, as if he was gonna hurt Dean or something. They sat, eyes flicking between the sleeping boy and Dean's face.

"We're in some trouble, Bobby." Dean said, looking down at the unconscious boy almost protectively.

A small snort came from the two men. "I'd call it a lot of trouble, but hey." The gold-eyed man said sharply, face bitterly sarcastic. He leaned back in his chair, almost predatory in his movements. The last man just looked wary, patient as he watched the exchange.

"Fine, call it what you like." Dean muttered. "We still need help." He admitted, then looked over at the blonde man. "Whatever happened to trusting him, anyway?"

"That was before I knew he kept shotguns pointed at us." The man said tersely, pointing at the hidden gun Bobby kept pointed near the door. He raised his eyebrows at the man, surprised he'd noticed.

"Sharp eyes." Bobby said. The man refused to look at him, still focused on Dean.

"What can he offer us, besides temporary shelter?"

Dean's eyes flashed with anger briefly, and he turned to talk directly to the distrustful man. "Shelter, for one, and protection. I don't see the hospital security pulling through now, do I?"

The words seemed to silence the man, echoing with the kind of command Bobby had heard from the boy's father.

"Hospital?" Bobby asked.

Dean sighed, running a hand through his short hair. "It's a long story." He said, closing his eyes.

"Well, tough." Bobby growled. "I got time."

The gold eyed man let out a bark at that, smiling as Dean sighed again. "Oh, I like him Dean. I take back what I said earlier."

The still-silent man in the other chair whapped a hand on his shoulder, getting a small smile in return. Bobby frowned but once again didn't comment.

"Go on." He told Dean, sitting down on one of his old sofas. The other man took in a breath, quirking his mouth to the side.

He started.

"Believe it or not, it all started with projectile vomiting."

* * *

"So Sam's a prince." Bobby stated in disbelief half and hour later. Dean nodded.

Bobby frowned, feeling a little too sober for this conversation. "And you're on the run from...who exactly?"

Dean opened his mouth, but was cut off by the man Bobby now had the pleasure of knowing as Gabriel. "Well, first it was his psychotic younger brother, but now it's the media. Crazy bastards."

Bobby titled his head at the doctor's flippant tone. "What the hell is so funny, son?"

Gabriel just shook his head, avoiding the question. Dean ran a hand through Sam's hair again, still sitting under the tall man's frame on the couch.

"So, we came here." Dean finished. "I'm not saying you have to-"

Bobby cut him off. "Stop right there son. You're always welcome in this house, ya hear?"

He saw a flash of guilt in Dean's eyes, but the boy nodded. Content, Bobby turned his attention to the other men in the room.

"So, you idjits want dinner?"

Misha laughed while Gabriel looked affronted. "What did you just call us?"

It was Bobby's turn to laugh at his expense. "Idjits, Belgium. Like idiots, but more fun."

He got a nod from Misha when Gabriel huffed at the new nickname and turned away, and flashed him a quick thumbs up. The previously silent man smiled brightly, standing up and moving towards the kitchen.

"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I could do with some food." He said, passing the doorway and disappearing. Gabriel got up and followed him, leaving Bobby and Dean, along with the still sleeping Sam.

Bobby watched Dean look down at Sam affectionately, questions flaring in his mind. He simply sat, though, and watched Dean.

"You really care for him, huh?" He asked after a second, breaking the silence. Dean nodded, enough of and answer for some but not enough for Bobby.

He tried again. "Love him, maybe?" Bobby asked, leaning forward in his sofa. Dean's eyes flashed up quickly, fear spreading through the boy's eyes like wildfire.

"Bobby-" He started, eyes wide with the one emotion Bobby hated to see.

"Shhh." Bobby cut him off, getting up and reaching a hand out to clasp his shoulder gently. "Dean, that ain't nothing to be ashamed of."

Dean turned away, face hidden as he turned to gaze out the window. It'd begun to storm earlier, like it did in the spring here, and the rain was pounding down outside. Bobby sighed as he realized what this was really about.

"Dean." Bobby started. "Your dad-"

The man whirled on him, eyes reflecting the sudden strike of lightning across the sky. "What _about _my father?" He dared Bobby, a mixture of desperation and anger in his voice.

Bobby paused, knowing there was no good way to say this. Secretly, deep down, he hated John for this, comrades in arms or not. What he'd done to this child...

"Remember the last time we were here?" Bobby asked, staring down at his own hands as the thunder shook the house, following the lightning.

_It wasn't storming in this memory, but the sky was still dark. The clock had struck midnight a few minutes ago, but besides a small glance up, Bobby barely recognized the passing of another day. Tilting his bottle back, he let the amber liquid slide down his throat with a small hiss. It burned, good and bad at the same time, but Bobby knew in a while that it wouldn't matter. Being drunk did that to you, made it feel like a gold-soft-slide down. _

_He'd have liked to say he hadn't done this in a while, but it wasn't true. These days he spent more time in the bottle than in his own head, and maybe it was better that way._

_The clock chimed again a few seconds later, shocking Bobby out of his reverie slightly. He could've sworn it had just been twelve, but the hands were pointing at the one, and the clock was probably more reliable than Bobby anyways. He leaned down a little in his chair, putting the bottle down as he closed his eyes. The dull feeling of alcohol flowed through him, dragging his mind down. He was almost asleep, thank god, and maybe the memories would go away then._

_A sharp noise woke him, digging through his doze until he was on his feet, hands itching for a gun. Once a soldier, always a soldier, and something was outside._

_Moving to the window, he settled his hand on the shotgun next to the door as a shape moved through the darkness. He'd put Rumsfeld in his cage before he'd grabbed the bottle, so it had to be a deer or something. _

_What the damn animal was gonna find in his junk yard, Bobby didn't know._

_Still nervous, he walked back to his chair and sat down, vaguely unsettled but still slightly drunk. Grabbing the bottle gingerly, he dropped it when the doorbell rang._

_"Shit!"_

_Walking over the glass as carefully as he could, he cursed his bad nerves. Looking through the peephole, surprise and anger sobered him instantly._

_"Dean?!"_

_Opening the door, the boy stood in front of him shakily, blood staining his pants. Bobby swallowed nervously as he saw the location of the bloodstain, undoing the chains and locks as quickly as possible._

_"Hey, Uncle Bobby." Dean got out, teeth chattering. He looked like death warmed over, and there was something terrible in his eyes._

_Bobby rushed forward, grabbing the boy and pulling him into the house. He gently set him on the couch, avoiding the glass still littering the floor. Dean gritted his teeth as he sat, but didn't cry out._

_"The hell happened to you, boy?" Bobby asked furiously, grabbing some pills and a glass of water quickly. Dean took a moment to reply, gaze shadowed and filled with guilt. _

_"John's dead." He said shakily, voice not breaking to his credit. Bobby felt a shock go through him as the news was revealed, but it didn't explain the blood stains._

_"What happened?" He repeated. "Where's your mom?"_

_Dean shook his head. "Gone. Hell, I dunno."_

_"Mary left?"_

_Dean raised his head then, looking so young and so old at the same time. "Mary left a long time'go. Didn't John tell you?"_

_"Why you ain't callin' him dad?" Bobby asked curiously, mentally running through the last time he'd talked to John, feeling shock reverberate through him as he realized it'd been months._

_"He ain't my father." Dean spat viciously. "Never was, never will be. He's dead, and I killed him. He ain't my father."_

_Bobby knelt in front of him, not daring to believe the boy. "What are you saying, boy?" He asked sharply, grabbing Dean's face tightly. The boy shrugged out of his hold, pointing down at the blood stains._

_"Dad's don't touch their children like this." He said hollowly, voice haunted as he gazed into Bobby's eyes. "But Bobby, I didn't mean to." He added, suddenly fevered He grabbed Bobby'd wrist, twisting sharply as he stared madly into his eyes again._

_ "Bobby, you gotta believe me, I didn't want him dead."_

_Bobby took his wrist back, shaken by the admittance. "What happened, son?" He whispered brokenly, torn between the memories of John he had and the boy sitting in front of him._

_Dean turned away, face filling with guilt. Bobby waited, still kneeling in front of him. Finally, he spoke again._

_"It was the last time I was gonna put up with it." Dean said softly. "I was gonna knock him out and run when he was done. I had a bag packed and some cash I'd saved." _

_Bobby felt tears well up in his eyes as he realized the meaning of those words._

_He closed his green eyes. "He came at me, and I socked him, hit him straight in his fucking nose, and he went down."_

_"And?" Bobby asked, not daring to go above a whisper._

_"And Bobby, he went down on the table and didn't get up...He was dead." _

_Dean began to shake, tears pouring down his face. Bobby grabbed him in a hug, careful not to jostle his injuries. Dean sobbed against his neck, tears warm as he mourned a father Bobby knew he never had. _

"That doesn't matter." Dean said sharply. "It's over, _I'm _over it. It's Sam I'm worried about."

Bobby raised and eyebrow. "Then why'd you flinch when I asked you if you loved him?"

Dean closed his eyes in response, pained frown appearing between his eyes. "Bobby, you know I can't do this."

"I didn't ask you to, boy. I'm saying there's still something there, though, and you gotta let it go. Personal advice."

Dean opened his eyes, furious. "And how am I supposed to just let it go, huh?" He questioned loudly. Bobby glanced quickly at the kitchen, thankful that whatever they were cooking was loud enough to cover the shouting.

"How am I supposed to sit next to Sam and feel better than I have my whole life when every time I can hear his voice in my head?" Dean asked brokenly, staring into Bobby's eyes just like the last night he'd been here. "Huh? When I can feel his _hands_ around me?"

Bobby flinched away from him, hating the bare truth in his eyes. Sam shifted on the couch, but didn't wake. Dean seemed to notice, voice quieter the next time he spoke.

"I love Sam, okay?" He asked Bobby. "Love him. And I'm not letting memories ruin this, whatever this is. The only thing we need to worry about are the reporters."

Bobby nodded, but spoke his mind anyway. "Then why's it sound like you're trying to convince yourself?"

Dean shook his head. "Bobby, I-"

He waved him off. The smell from the kitchen was starting to sneak through the house, and a change of scenery would do them both good.

"Dinner seems almost ready. Why don't you wake that boy of your's up and we eat?" He asked peaceably, waving towards the kitchen.

Dean seemed to deflate, nodding at Bobby before nudging Sam gently. Bobby moved towards the stairs, giving the two their privacy.

He didn't notice the pair of gold eyes watching from the kitchen.

* * *

A/N Review?


	4. Chapter 4

A/N So, it's been a really long time, huh? I apologize. This chapter is more of a surprise to me, actually. I'm currently working on a birthday prompt from the loverly if-llamas-could-fly, and that's going well. I don't know for sure, but the next chap may be up Thursday or Tuesday. Overall, however, things aren't great. Al of my thoughts are with those in Boston right now, and while it might seem conceited or generic, I pray everything gets better. Thanks to my beta as always, and to all of you who followed and/or reviewed. You guys keep me going, and that really shows when times are tough. :)

* * *

_Excerpt from the diary of Joanna Reynard (Translated, Speight)_

_Sam left last night. I don't know why, and maybe that's the worst part. Gabriel's gone too, and nobody will talk about it. Mom was trying to stay calm, but I saw her crying in her room earlier. This is all spiraling out of control, and nobody thinks I'm old enough to understand. Adam is gone too, but I hope he stays away. How he hurt Sam...I just can't get it out of my head. But why did Sam tell me what he did last night? I will always love him, but I know I will never love Adam as a brother again. Why is the only person who ever treated me like an adult gone? It's as if Sam is dead-yet I pray it is anything but that. Dear Lord, keep my brother safe. He didn't deserve any of this._

* * *

Gabriel smiled as a sleepy looking Sam stumbled into the kitchen, carefully watched by Dean. He didn't give notice that he'd seen the tender scene between Bobby and the other man. They stood around the small counter as Misha began to bring plates over, getting ready to serve.

They'd managed to navigate around the kitchen, scrounging up a delicious pot of spaghetti Misha swore by. Knowing the other man possessed measurable cooking talents, Gabriel assisted only when necessary.

After the pasta was drained, Misha expertly flipped it back into the pot, turning the meat sauce over until it was all mixed. Right before it was served, Bobby came in from the other door, brow wrinkling when he saw the food.

Gabriel nearly broke out into laughter as he saw Misha tense up at the frown, eyes going wide like a trapped animal's.

"We can clean it all up, I swear sir." Misha stammered out, hands going limp against his sides. "It's just, there wasn't a lot in the freezer, so I washed the pot I found, and..."

He looked so terrified he'd somehow insulted the man that Gabriel almost felt bad for him.

Almost. The expression on Bobby's face at being called "sir" by Misha was priceless, though.

"It's fine, boy." The older man grumbled. Gabriel saw Dean hiding a grin behind Sam, green eyes filled with humor.

Misha relaxed slightly, finally serving the food out on the plates. Gabriel walked over to the other side of the kitchen, surreptitiously grabbing Misha's ass when he went by.

The blush from before had grown, and the whole kitchen was faced with a very pink Misha.

"So." Sam coughed awkwardly, throwing a glance Gabriel's way that said COOL IT. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." He said, offering a hand out to Bobby. Misha started grabbing plates and moving towards the dining room, slim figure disappearing behind the doorway.

Bobby looked astonished, but returned the shake. "Strong grip for a man who's been passed out." He mentioned.

Sam just smiled, flicking a glance at Dean. "I have a good nursemaid."

Gabriel raised his hand, outraged.. "Don't forget the doctor!" He said, mock-offended. "I didn't see Dean in medical school, lemme tell you."

They all chuckled at that, even Bobby. Moving towards the dining room, Bobby turned to Sam as the mood shifted, turning more serious.

"So, you're Sam." He said, raising an eyebrow as they sat. "I've heard a lot about you."

Gabriel watched carefully as Sam froze. Bobby was the equivalent of Dean's father figure, and the tone he was taking suggested he was being anything but casual.

"Hopefully nothing bad." Sam joked a second too late. Gabriel saw Dean's hand grab Sam's under the table.

"You're in quite a mess, boy." Bobby said, not touching his food. "Reporters, assassins. Royalty."

Sam paled, and didn't say anything. Gabriel was about to jump in when the boy finally spoke.

"It's pretty bad, yeah." Sam started calmly. "Not my idea of fun."

"We all make decisions." Bobby said flatly, staring directly at Sam when he said it. The tall man's eyes flashed for a second, but he replied smoothly, tone immaculately polite.

"If you were suggesting that everything that's happened to me has been through fault of my own, I would find I disagreed with you." Sam said firmly. "Regardless, I never went into a situation where I would hurt or bring others down with me. That would be the last thing I would ever want, sit."

His voice cracked a little on the last word, but Bobby seemed pleased. Leaning back in his seat, he gave Sam a nod before turning to Dean.

"You sure know how to pick 'em." He told Dean before picking up his fork. "Let's see how well y'all did with dinner."

The forks went up in silence, but the conversation that followed made up for that.

* * *

Bobby nonchalantly showed them their beds after the delicious meal, bringing down old sheets and pillows for the sparse rooms. Dean felt a wave of nostalgia pass over him as he smelled the inside of his old room. It still had a slightly musty, old-spice infused smell to it, and memories rushed through him as soon as he walked in.

Sam was doing better, thankfully, and proposed they share the bed that night. With the raised eyebrows and the glint in his eyes, Dean knew the statement wasn't as innocuous as it appeared. Misha and Gabriel had the room across the hall from them, though both looked a little confused at the arrangements. Dean smirked as he saw Bobby walk by, completely indifferent to their confusion.

Bobby was a smarter man than he appeared.

Night fell very quickly after that, and Dean relaxed with Sam for the majority of it. While he was feeling better, Dean knew the stitches were still causing him a little pain. He pleaded with Sam to sleep, and while the other man put up a valiant (And convincing) fight, he was soon asleep in Dean's lap.

Sam had been so strong, for himself and for all of them. He deserved his rest, and even the slightly muffled noises from across the hallway were annoying Dean. He was about to stand up and tell Misha to quit moving around stuff when he heard a low moan. Blushing bright red, he settled back against Sam, deciding in a heartbeat he wasn't going anywhere near that room.

* * *

Misha stared slightly apprehensively at the bed in the room, confused, embarrassed, and a little turned on. Gabriel was in the bathroom down the hall, brushing his teeth. He hadn't seemed uncomfortable with the sleeping arrangements at all, and that sort of scared Misha.

To risk sounding like a teenage girl, they had only kissed once, and yes, it had been the best kiss of his life. In all honesty, gay men didn't have a lot of lovers. It wasn't like it appeared on TV, glamorized and coiffed. While the general public was okay with gays, it was still so hard to find someone, especially when most of the general public _wasn't gay._

Meeting Gabriel had changed everything, and while he was ready to take the dreaded next step, there was a lot to untangle, uncomplicated and iron out with awkward conversation. They'd kissed, sure, and the flirting had taken on a whole new level, but something was still missing.

Misha knew it was probably sex, but the romantic part of his mind liked to sniff slightly in disdain and look elsewhere. Maybe they hadn't confessed their love for each other yet?

Startling out of his reverie, Gabriel's face met his through the doorway with a small smile.

"You ready for bed?" The blonde man asked, walking forward and sitting slowly on the bed. Misha felt his heart flutter and immediately began to chastise it internally. Goddamn heart fluttering, you'd think it was a romance movie.

"Yeah." He said, only lying slightly. It'd been a long day, and the drive had exhausted him. Gabriel looked tired as well, but his usual cheer was still present.

Gabriel must have noticed the lack of enthusiasm in his voice because he did one of those ridiculously funny things he only did when he thought Misha was being a downer. Misha had turned to get into bed when a body crashed onto his back, making the bed rock slightly.

"Sneak attack!" He said, grabbing hold of Misha's back and hugging him tightly. Misha shook his head, mentally groaning at the childish man.

"Jesus, Gabe, it's just sleep." He said while trying to untangle the man from him. Gabriel held on, gripping tighter as Misha tried to pry his hands off.

"So?" The man crowed at him. "We gotta have fun first!"

Misha nodded sarcastically, then realized that wasn't a great idea when there was someone holding onto said neck. "So, this is your idea of foreplay then?"

Gabriel paused in his attack, and his breath tickled the side of Misha's neck as he leaned in.

"Do you want it to be, baby?" He asked quietly. Misha burst out into laughter, joined by Gabriel a second later.

"Okay, even I couldn't take myself seriously there." Gabriel admitted when they both had their breath back. "Does that stuff really work here in America?"

Misha smiled, spinning Gabriel around until he was in his arms. "I dunno, kinda liked it, though."

Gabriel smiled, gold eyes swallowed by pupil. "Really?"

Misha leaned forward, covering the distance between them until he his lips brushed Gabe's when he spoke. "Oh yeah. In fact, let's just skip the sarcasm and jump completely into the cliche. "

Gabriel smiled even wider, then pulled a move that suddenly had Misha lying face up on the bed.

"What?" Misha asked dazedly, feeling slightly perturbed by the amount of strength Gabriel apparently possessed.

Gabriel was above him, eyes burning. "Aren't you supposed to be cliched and start chanting my name right now?" He asked as he leaned forward, eyes teasing as he ran a hand up Misha's chest.

"Oh, I am?"

Gabriel smirked, leaning in even closer.

"Better get started."

* * *

Early morning light was always the most peaceful, but Dean's arm around his waist made it all perfect. Sam stared out of the window in their room contentedly, warm and for once not tired. The medication had worn off completely a couple of hours ago, but the pain was so minute now that he didn't think he'd need to take another full dose. His head was clear for the first time in a few weeks, and the clarity felt amazing.

Dean shifted against him, murmuring in his sleep before settling back in against Sam's side. He smiled at the other man, content to just watch his love sleep. Even now, the stress lines were shrinking, and he looked years younger.

Closing his eyes briefly, Sam sank into a light doze. His mind was grey like the light outside, reflecting the colors of the early dawn. Shapes and sounds surrounded him, broken only by a firm grip on his shoulder.

Startling awake, Sam found himself face to face with Bobby, who held a hand to his lips. Pointing, he motioned to the still form of Dean beside him before motioning for Sam to get up. Frowning, he disentangled Dean before getting out of the bed, throwing a light sweater over his pajama pants and t-shirt. He slid his feet into his boots before trying to walk down the hall without creaking the floorboards.

Bobby led them down the stairs silently, motioning once again for Sam to follow him. Confused, but also very curious, Sam followed him until they reached the yard outside. Dew covered every surface, glistening in the small light of morning. The sky was gorgeous, a myriad of colors flowing like water colors between the clouds. The sun was simply a burst of light in the east, barely peeking over the horizon.

They walked until they were far away from the house, coming to a stop behind a shed. Sam frowned once more as he saw what the other man had obviously set up next to the shed. A row of cans sat on a wooden shelf a few yards away, directly in front of a shotgun.

"Now, son." Bobby started, voice breaking the early morning calm. He turned to Sam, rubbing his hands together as birds called to each other from the trees nearby, sweet and placid. "I'm gonna teach you how to shoot."

Sam took a second before he nodded, secretly even more confused. Didn't Dean tell Bobby he could already shoot? Hell, he was a better shot than Dean, and he was pretty sure the man had been taught by Bobby himself.

"But why, sir?" He asked politely, looking up at Bobby respectfully. He knew the man had had military experience, and deference was the highest level of respect Sam could offer.

Bobby walked over and grabbed the shotgun, loading it with an ease that spoke of many years of practice.

"Because." He said firmly. "I don't want you and Dean in danger, and he already knows how to shoot. Royalty like you, I'm pretty have never touched a gun."

Sam felt a small bit of anger at the man's words, but clamped down on it. He knew Bobby was just looking out for Dean, and in all honesty, in Bobby's place, he would've done the same thing himself.

"Okay." He said, letting just the right amount of doubt slip into his voice. Bobby didn't smirk, but Sam could see he was pleased just by the way he held the gun.

Pacing over to a line painted in the grass, Bobby cocked the gun and aimed, letting a shot off flawlessly. One of the cans flew off the shelf, small ding barely noticeable under the louder echo of the shot.

Sam flinched a little at the noise, but they seemed far enough away from the house that he assumed Dean wouldn't wake. Bobby turned back to Sam proudly, handing him the gun.

"Now you try."

Sam grabbed the gun, running his hand over it slowly, like it was unfamiliar. Instantly, however, he was measuring and weighing the gun, testing the balance. He stepped forward to the line, putting his legs out in the shooting position.

"Good." Bobby said when he saw his stance. "Now just aim, take a breath, and shoot. Don't let the gun kick back at 'ya."

Sam nodded, putting a focused look on his face. In all honesty, he could probably do this in his sleep.

Bobby stood back, gesturing for him to start. Sam took a breath like he was ordered, leaned back into his stance and began to fire.

All of the cans went down in about ten seconds, and Sam couldn't keep the smile from his face as he turned to see Bobby staring at him, jaw dropped.

Sam put the gun down, flicking the empty cartridges out and rubbing his hands together.

"Good?" He asked the other man. Bobby nodded after a second, jaw closing.

"Where in the hell did you learn to shoot?" He asked Sam after a second, staring at him incredulously. Sam shrugged.

"It's why you learn, not where." He said, almost embarrassed by the look the other man was still giving him. Bobby's eyes had narrowed, and he took a step forward.

"What else do you know?" He questioned.

Sam shrugged again. "Hand to hand, lots of knife work, some sword techniques." He replied honestly. Bobby seemed to be considering him for a second before turning and motioning.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked, slightly alarmed.

Bobby made a grumbling sound, but when he turned, a small smiled cracked his face.

"We got work to do, boy."

* * *

Dean woke to an empty bed, feeling alarmed and unsettled. He got up quickly, throwing on boots and a sweater before walking down the stairs. He looked around the bottom floor, but Sam was nowhere to be found. Getting slightly more anxious, he walked out onto the porch.

Relief coursed through him as he saw Sam's familiar frame walking back towards the house, tall next to Bobby's slightly shorter stature. The older man held one of Dean's favorite old rifles in his hands, small smile on his face.

Dean walked forward off the porch, greeting them with a wave. Sam waved back, expression turning to pure happiness as he spotted Dean. Bobby waved back after shifting the gun, oddly cheerful for the morning.

He was withing fifty yards of them when a movement off to his right caught his eye. A man stood between a few of the trees lining the lot, back towards Dean. Curious, he tilted his head, shock running through him as the man turned, and brown eyes caught his.

John Winchester smiled slowly and waved before turning and heading into the forest, locking eyes with Dean before he disappeared.

* * *

Agh. Review? It's starting to get moving again, people!:)


	5. Chapter 5

A/N So, so, sorry for the late update. This chapter's been dancing around my head for a while now, though, so I hope you enjoy. Thanks to my beta as always for the cheer leading, and to if-llamas-could-fly for writing a beautiful piece that partially inspired this chapter. Thanks to everyone who's left reviews!

* * *

_Ella smiled as Prince Samuel walked by, bowing slightly at the waist. His cheerful smile brightened the corridor as he waved back, slanted eyes filled with compassion. He was always polite with her, along with the rest of the staff._

_She went back to dusting the tables and vases as he made his way around the corner. Listening for the creak of the stairs that meant someone was ascending, she frowned when no sound came._

_"Prince Samuel." Someone murmured, separated from her only by a wall. The tone drawled out the m, curling almost maliciously around the name. She shuddered, having half a mind to simply walk away._

_"Luke." Samuel said politely, tone just as sweet and innocent as she'd always expected from him. "What a coincidence I would meet you here."_

_A sharp laugh echoed through the wall from the other man. There was a shuffle, as if he'd taken a step forward._

_"I came with a boon." Luke said flippantly, and Ella could imagine the serpent imploring the young prince._

_"We've done away with all of that." Samuel said, sounding only politely amused. "What can I do for you, Luke?"_

_"We don't spend much time together, do we?" Luke suddenly asked instead of answering._

_"For obvious reasons." Samuel said, laugh like little bells. "Was there a specific reason you brought it up?"_

_"I was wondering about Jessica."_

_There was a pause. "What about her?" Samuel replied after a second, tone suddenly much darker._

_"I don't mean to be impolite, my lord, but I observed that your affections for her are decidedly...implicit."_

_"And what would prompt you to suggest something of that nature?" The Prince relied, expertly avoiding the implication. One thing she'd always forgotten about Samuel-he'd learned how to speak at the knee of Gabriel himself. Ella continued to dust the table, though it was past clean. She leaned her head against the wall to hear even better._

_"I disagree with the future engagement."_

_There was another shuffle. "I'm sorry to hear that." Samuel's voice said darkly. The floor above her began to creak, and she guessed The Prince had begun to ascend the stairs._

_A gasp sounded, and a large thump rattled the wall. Ella nearly let out a scream, clapping a hand over her mouth. Creeping forward, she edged over the doorway to see the stairwell._

_Luke held Samuel against the wall by his shirt, speaking low and intently into the man's face. His back was turned to her, and Samuel was blocked by his head._

_"Isn't this better?" Luke was asking, voice wretched. "I saw the way you looked at me the other morning. When I stretched."_

_He ran a hand up Samuel's chest, defiling the_ prince_ in a way that horrified Ella. His hand stopped right between Samuel's legs, and Ella saw the shame and pain in the Prince's eyes as Luke grabbed him._

_"You like me better than her, don't you?" Luke asked, tipping his head up until he was nearly whispering into Samuel's ear, rotating his hand slowly. "I can feel you. Does it feel like this with her?"_

_Samuel, to his credit, kept cool. "What do you want?" He asked, even managing to look down on the man. Luke was tall, but Samuel had always been a giant. He'd been nicknamed "gentle giant" in the palace for years, and the muscle he'd picked up meant he could have broken out of the demeaning hold if he'd had to._

_But Samuel wasn't a fighter. He wasn't ruled by his anger, one of the biggest reasons everyone knew he'd make a great king. He'd always thought about others first, acknowledged by his next statement._

_"Let me go." He implored Luke. "I won't hurt you, but this is not what I want."_

_"Not what you want?" Luke asked, reaching another hand up around The Prince's head. Ella felt sick as he snaked it into Samuel's glossy hair, wrenching his mouth down to his. Sam fought with him, curses muffled against the vile man's mouth._

_She was about to run, to get someone, something-anything-when Sam shoved Luke back, breathing heavily._

_"Get out." He said coldly, pupils dilated until his hazel-blue eyes were swallowed in them. "Get out of the palace."_

_"You don't mean that." Luke said, walking forward slowly. "I am adviser here. You can't fire me." He said, seductiveness bleeding into his tone. He tried to put a hand on Samuel's shoulder, looking hurt when the taller man turned out of his grasp._

_"Leave now." Samuel spat, looking righteously angry and so dangerous it made Ella's heart clench. This beautiful young man, ruined by the advisor himself..._

_"Please, Samuel." Luke said, grabbing his sleeve desperately. "I love you."_

_Samuel went still. "You don't mean that." He said after a second. Luke's hand still stayed on his sleeve, and they held the position for a few more seconds._

_Luke grew arrogant, running a hand up to The Prince's face like before. When Samuel tried to take a step back, he grabbed his hair roughly, patience apparently gone._

_"You want this. I KNOW-_

_A slap cut him off, and Luke's head whipped to the side with the force of the blow. Samuel stood strong above him, eyes a mixture of regret and vicious anger._

_"You have cornered me, touched me, forced me to touch you, violated me and angered me, worst of all. You're lucky I even allow you to live." Samuel said coolly. "You had absolutely no right to call my marital affairs to attention in the first place. Now you dare to tell me what I want?"_

_Luke tried to speak, one hand over his bleeding lip, but Samuel cut him off._

_"I am about to speak with my father." He said quietly, the threat obvious. "Is this really what you want me to discuss with him?"_

_Luke paled, and his footsteps echoed as he bounded out of the stairwell. Samuel sighed before sliding down the wall until he sat, curling in on himself. Tears leaked down his face, but he was silent._

* * *

Bobby woke up to the sound of laughter, and what even sounded like a wolf whistle. Curious, and as it was his house, he got out of bed quickly. Throwing a robe over his pajamas, he crept down the back stairs to find the four men on the ground in front of the porch, sweaty and smiling.

"C'mon, just one round!" Misha was saying, exasperated. "You've both beat us easily. I wanna see you guys against each other!"

Dean's laugh was unmistakable. "Yeah, it'd be like the perfect scene. The master and the student. You're not telling me y'all don't wanna try?"

He gestured towards Sam and Gabriel, who were standing a few feet away. Sam let out a small bark of laughter, hair rustling in the morning breeze. Gabriel just cracked a small smiled, hands crossed over his chest.

Dean was next to Misha, looking slightly battered but in good cheer. A circle was scraped into the dirt a meter to the right, imprinted with boot marks and skid lines.

"What the hell are y'all doing sparring this early?" Bobby asked irritably, shuffling out onto the porch. "Don't you know what time it is?"

Sam had the grace to look guilty, but Dean turned to him with a smile. "It's eleven, Bobby." He said cheerfully. "Way past early."

Misha smirked, jabbing an elbow into Dean's side. "This is him after coffee, don't worry. He was about as grumpy as you an hour ago."

Bobby frowned. "And who's idea was this?" He asked, looking at all of them. Sam finally relented, stepping forward.

"Mine and Gabriel's, sir." He said respectfully, eyes on the grass. A part of Bobby just wanted to grab the damn kid and string him up for acting so polite around him, but the ego boost it was giving dulled that urge.

"And you guys have been sparring?" Bobby asked Gabriel. Gold eyes met his as the doctor nodded.

"Sam and I already know how to defend ourselves. We wanted to make sure Dean and Misha did as well."

Bobby didn't miss the look he threw towards the blue eyes man as he spoke, but didn't mention it. Grumbling under his breath, he moved forwards until he was sitting on the small chair at the front of the porch.

At their confused stares, he waved his hand.

"Well, go on. Get!"

Sam tilted his head to the side, for once looking foreign and unsure. "Get what?"

"He was sayin' you guys hadn't sparred against each other yet." Bobby stated. "Now, call me crazy, but if you two are as trained as I you said you were, this should be entertaining. And I don't got cable."

Sam and Gabriel shared a quick look, communicating swiftly before Gabriel nodded. Sam rolled his shoulders back as they began to circle, immediately shifting into low stances.

Dean and Misha hurried onto the porch, looking three parts like the damn fools they were and one part awed. The two men on the grass _moved _dangerously. God only knows what they'd really be like in battle.

Sam and Gabriel circled for ten more seconds before Gabriel made the first move, a lightning-quick dive forward with a low kick. Sam twisted out of the way just as quickly, placing a light hold on the other man's arm. Gabriel danced along with him, twisting in a way that Bobby knew meant neither men were even trying to injure the other. The carefully choreographed fight carried on, both men on equal skill levels.

Gabriel threw a jab across Sam's chest, only to get blocked and spun again. The shorter man took advantage of Sam's height and grabbed his hips with his legs, holding Sam in place as he tried to hit again.

The display was amazing, far surpassing the skill level of all the fights Bobby had been a witness to. Sam and Gabriel dove around each other, ducking, spinning and kicking in some modern mixing pot of all the martial arts Bobby had seen (And some he hadn't)

The match continued for minutes, neither men giving an inch. Sam's blows rained down on quick blocks Gabriel threw out, the balance of defense and offense like water between the two. One minute, Sam was on the offensive, the other, Gabriel. It was awe-inspiring, and Bobby finally managed to shake himself out of the near stupor he had fallen into to call time.

"Alright, enough!"

The two men instantly snapped to attention, barely even sweating. Sam was breathing heavily along with Gabriel, smiling as he clapped his mentor on the back, receiving a shove from the good-natured man.

"Quand avez-vous si grand?" Gabriel said to Sam in French, laughing. Sam just shook his head, replying with what Bobby guessed was a well-crafted insult. Both men sniggered, walking off the grass and onto the porch.

Dean and Misha stood gawking, apparently not having realized the extent of their masters' skill. Both Sam and Gabriel passed them by to grab water from the kitchen, leaving Bobby alone with the two idjits.

"Holy crap." Misha finally managed, blue eyes wide.

"Holy crap is right." Dean said. "I knew Sam could fight..but that was like fucking _Jet Lee_. Christ."

Bobby stood then, shooting them both a stern look. "Then you two better not piss 'em off." He said, smiling a little as he heard Sam excitedly chatter to Gabriel in French.

"It's kind of hard to remember they're foreign sometimes, isn't it?" Misha asked dazedly. "They seem so..."

"Normal?" Dean asked.

"I wouldn't say that." Bobby cut in. "The short one eats nothing but candy for breakfast. I wouldn't call that normal."

In the two weeks they'd been there, Bobby's meager candy supply had dwindled until disappearing. One chance to guess who's fault that was.

"You know what I mean." Misha said, shooting him an annoyed (but fond, Bobby reminded himself) glare. "They're very good at, I dunno..._mixing_."

Dean nodded along with his words but frowned. "Mixing?"

"They've already carved out a place here. Without even really trying. I mean, they're special." Misha admitted, blushing a little. "Now let's stop psychoanalyzing them. I feel like a creeper."

Dean smirked. "Oh, and you weren't one already?"

Misha smacked him on the arm, smile dancing on his lips. "Bite your tongue, boy."

A call from the kitchen sounded. "Hey, we're outta groceries. Not it!" Gabriel shouted.

"Not it!" Sam called.

Dean followed. "Not it!"

Bobby, familiar with this game, spoke up quickly. "Not it!" He said, standing off to the side of the porch so they could all see Misha.

Misha opened his mouth. "Not-fuck. Dammit!"

Gabriel walked out onto the porch, a bottle of water in his hand. "Oh, don't whine. You know if we go, we'll just pick out stupid things." He said, raising and eyebrow. "And then you'll whine, and then Dean'll whine, and you know how Bobby gets."

"Last week was not my fault!" Misha said, offended. "You picked out mushrooms, goulda, bacon and spinach. What the hell was I supposed to do with that? You should have let me-" He cut off, realizing where this was going. "Oh, you bastard." He said, watching Gabriel try to hold a straight face.

"Shopping!" Gabriel cried, throwing a bag into Misha's hands. "And because you're the only one the media doesn't have a mug shot of."

"That's reassuring." He said drolly, but relented. Turning to Bobby, he sighed. "Which car can I take?"

Bobby frowned, thinking for a second. "How about the '97 Toyota I got in the front. Keys should be in the ignition, still."

Misha grumbled enough to put Bobby to shame, but started walking. Giving a mock salute, he was almost off the porch when Gabriel called after him.

"Take your coat! It's colder down in town!"

Misha returned with a mock sigh, grabbing the proffered coat from Gabriel. The mischievous doctor, being in his element, grabbed Misha's neck and whispered something in his ear. The blue-eyed man blushed so badly even Dean noticed.

"Go on!" He said, amused. "Enough with that. I want breakfast, and Misha's the only decent cook."

"Hell yeah." Misha agreed, and, ignoring the indignant "Hey!" from Gabriel, began the trek down to the front of the yard.

Family was a strange thing sometimes.

* * *

Sioux Falls, being a smallish town, had only a few decent fresh produce stores. Misha, the lover of fresh food, had scoped out the place even as they were driving in two weeks ago. A glorified Sentry was all this town really had to offer, but their food looked good, and so he went.

Shopping had always been a calming experience for Misha. Ever since he'd done a few classes in college, the routine of searching the shelves for a spontaneous meal had always enticed him. He never knew exactly what he was going to get, and the most magical part came only after he'd made the meal.

He started with the necessities first, grabbing a cart and filling it with eggs, milk and bread. Stopping over in produce-land, he smiled as he saw the display of fresh lettuce. It looked full and gorgeous out here in the country, nothing like the pale, flat leaves in the city. Grabbing a head of that along with some luscious peppers, he continued on.

The meat area was sparse, but they had a good deal on ground chuck. Already planning out their meals for the next week, Misha almost didn't notice the man trailing behind him.

After about three rows in the large store-which were mainly empty-a flash of blonde hair caught his eye. Not being very street smart, but knowing from all the Jason Bourne books how to check for a tail, he slyly glanced over his shoulder.

Luke, the man from the warehouse was standing thirty feet away, pretending to peruse a shelve of tomato paste cans. Heart dropping into his stomach, Misha tried to keep his calm as he secretly grabbed his phone from his pocket, grateful as ever-loving fuck that Gabriel had made him take it.

Pressing speed dial, he called Gabriel, cursing the slow call. He checked the man out one last time, praying he was wrong but knowing it meant something. Sure enough, Luke still stood there, dressed in all black. Misha's heart began to beat faster as the dial tone sounded in his ear.

"Hey." Gabriel said cheerfully. "How's shopping? Not too-"

Misha cut him off, speaking in a hushed voice. "Gabriel, Luke's right behind me here in the store. Luke."

There was a sharp inhale, and Misha could hear Gabriel say something low to Sam in French. His voice came back onto the phone a second later.

"Misha, you need to get out of there right now. Leave the store. Try to look natural." He said, voice so different from the cheery tone it possessed a second ago that Misha wanted to scream. Why did this have to happen, why _now_?

Misha pushed the cart towards the check-out. "What if he follows me?" He asked, trying to look inconspicuous.

"I'm going to take care of him, don't worry about him." Gabriel reassured, voice cold and commanding. "Just get out of there."

Abandoning the cart behind the coin machine, Misha began to walk briskly towards the doors. "Alright."

_Oh God, oh God _he thought. _Gabriel._

* * *

_"Alright."_

Gabriel's heart raced as the phone went silent for a few seconds, and all he could hear were Misha's breaths. Finally, he spoke.

"You out in the parking lot yet?" He asked, hearing the general chatter of the store die down.

_"Yeah."_ Misha replied. _"What do I do now? I can't tell if he's following me or not."_

Gabriel paused, trying to reaffirm their options. "Is there an alley or path you can take without seeming obvious?"

There was a pause, and every second made Gabriel's heart pound._"There's an alley here, but it's small."_

"Take it. Try to get to the police station across the street there." He said, remembering having seen it when they drove in. Sam was already putting a silencer on his weapon behind him, face set grimly as Bobby watched on.

Misha's breaths echoed in his ear again, but he was still breathing, for God's sake. That had to be enough.

"You there?" He dared to ask a second later, hating the situation. It had been so perfect minutes ago, like they could just leave this world behind. How wrong Gabriel had been.

_"I'm here. Gabriel, I don't know it he's-"_

A series of pops echoed over the line, and Gabriel's mind could barely comprehend the telltale choking noise. He screamed into the phone, waving frantically at Sam to get them moving.

"Misha?" He cried. "Misha? Answer me, goddamnit!" He screamed into the phone as they ran out of the house, Bobby and Dean in tow. They were almost to the car, they were so close, god fucking_ dammit_-

There was a hitched breath, and then no breaths at all.

* * *

A/N Review?


	6. Chapter 6

A/N Sorry for the short chapter. Real life is a pain. This is mostly rising action. Anyone else excited for tonight's ep?

Thanks to my beta who runs the world when I'm not looking, and to SVT3 for the cheerleading.

* * *

_"There's an alley here, but it's small."_

_Luke stood in the mouth of the alley, grinning as he heard the rushed phone conversation. He kept himself hidden behind the corner of the wall, waiting until the man had hidden. _

_"I'm here, Gabriel." The blue-eyed man said into the phone. He looked so vulnerable, clutching the jacket around himself as he held the phone to his ear. Stepping forward, Luke double-checked the silencer before pulling the trigger._

_Pop! Pop! Pop! The gun went, and the man stumbled to the alley wall before sliding down it, blood already staining the wall behind him. Luke grinned again as he heard screams from the other line. _

_Gabriel. _

_Trap set, he walked away just as the wounded man choked on his last breath. _

* * *

Before the car slid to a stop outside of the alley, Gabriel was already running. Sam watched him in dismay, grabbing his gun and leaping out after him.

It was almost noon, bright light casting a strange sheen over all of the buildings. Gabriel's hair flashed gold as he sprinted towards the alley, expression frozen in a look of terror Sam had never seen on his mentor's face before.

He could hear Dean behind him, cursing nonstop under his breath as he ran with Sam. They made it to the mouth of the alley in seconds, finding Gabriel kneeling motionless on the stones.

Dean's swearing cut off as they saw Misha's body. Pellucid blue eyes were dull and glazed, staring up at nothing. His whole body was bent at an unnatural angle, sitting against the alley wall. Blood stained his jacket and the ground a dark red.

He had been dead for some time now.

"Christ." Dean's broken voice said. A stumble grabbed Sam's attention and he turned to find Dean bent over, retching.

Gabriel was still kneeling, face gray in the harsh sunlight. Misha's body was only a few feet from him, but he made no move to touch it.

It, Sam thought grimly. Not Misha anymore. It seemed to finally have hit him that Misha was gone-that they were never going to see those eyes light up again, never hear his laughter or his tears. Misha's life had ended, plain and simple, but it was so much more than that.

Finally, Gabriel broke. The sound of sobs joined Dean's retching as Gabriel cried, reaching out until he was holding Misha close. Wrapped around the body, his cries were muffled in his lover's shoulder.

"Oh hell." A gruff voice said, apparently the only person able to form words.

Sam spun, pointing his gun at the speaker. He relaxed when he saw Bobby, shifting the gun so it faced elsewhere.

Bobby walked a few steps forward before sighing, taking off his hat as he paused. Nothing was said.

Dean finished throwing up, leaning against the alley wall with red eyes. Gabriel's sobs had quieted, but tears still stained Misha's jacket.

It was that strange moment when Sam realized that everything had collapsed. Everything he and Gabriel had worked for the past few years was gone, taken in a single instance. Misha had been the only thing holding Gabriel to this life, the only person that could have made it truly worth it to stay.

And he was gone, goddamnit. Gone.

Sam was about to walk over to Dean when a small flash from one of the windows overlooking the alley caught his eye. Realizing instantly what it was, he ducked.

A small POP was heard, and the brick where his head had just been cracked. Sprinting forward, he grabbed Gabriel's head and forced him down. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Bobby doing the same to Dean.

"Sniper!" He yelled at Bobby, tugging Gabriel away. His mentor resisted, punches dulled from the shock.

Sam growled, bodily shoving Gabriel way from the body. They ducked behind a trash can, heads low.

"We need to move! There's a sniper!"

Gabriel growled right back in his face, gold eyes terrifying in their despair. "Leave me."

"There's a sniper!" Sam shouted, shifting them behind the trash can as he sniper changed angles slightly.

"Goddamnit, Gabriel we don't have much time!"

He got no response. Furiously, he shook Gabriel, but the man stayed silent

"You'll die!" He screamed at the man in French, tugging on his arm.

"Maybe I want to!" Gabriel said wretchedly, eyes welling up. "I want to die!"

Sam saw Bobby getting Dean behind the wall of a building ahead and realized they needed to move soon. Grabbing his gun in a fierce grip, he lashed it across Gabriel's temple, knocking him unconscious.

Gathering the smaller man in his arms, he checked the angle before making a run for it. Grunting at Gabriel's dead weight, he managed to make it out of the alley.

Bobby was already at the wheel of the car, idling as Sam laid Gabriel into the backseat. Diving in and closing the door, he tried to hold on as Bobby sped out of there.

* * *

Bobby took the road towards the house at a breakneck speed. Dean looked green as he held onto the safety bar, eyes glazed over as Sam shouted back.

"Turn around!" Sam said as they hurtled back to the house, checking the rearview for tails. "We can't go home!"

Bobby frowned but continued, driving even faster. "What the hell are you talking about, boy? We have to go home, that's where out stuff's at!"

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "They knew where Misha was!" He shouted. "They fucking knew where he was!"

"So?"

"So they know where you live too! We're in danger! How can you not see this?" He screamed.

Bobby looked unimpressed. "I'm sorry about your friend, kid, but we'll be okay at home-"

Sam felt anger well up at his words, making his vision flash red. He took a breath, but his next words still came out vicious.

"No we won't. You don't fucking understand! They're after me!"

Dean stayed silent as they shouted back and forth, leaning into the seat. Gabriel lay unconscious on the back seat, bruise already swelling on his temple.

"I have guns at home! We can take one goddamn sniper-"

Sam cut him off, face deadly serious. "Try twenty. Try thirty armed men. Try trained experts. I'm telling you, we need to get the fuck out of here now!"

"Goddamnit, kid-"

"I'm not a kid, and I'm telling you if you want to live you need to TURN THE FUCK AROUND!"

Bobby cursed, spinning the wheel. The car spun, tires screaming as they shifted over the center line. Finishing that oh so illegal U-turn, Bobby set them on the course for the highway, breathing heavily.

"Where to?" He asked finally, voice quieter.

Sam shook his head, finally leaning back into the seat. Dean reached a hand around the seat to grab his, but he never let his tears fall.

* * *

_A sharp pain dulled his sight as he stood up. Touching a hand to the back of his head, he found a large lump forming. Blood coated his fingers as he pulled his hand back. _

_It was raining outside, heavy and loud until all of the senses were so dampened you were lucky enough to hear the person right next to you. The motel room, however, was empty. Beer cans littered the table, staining yesterday's newspaper yellow. He stumbled to the bathroom in search of the first aid kit, prosthetic leg aching under the unusual stress. _

_Dean seemed to be gone for now, but John would find him. _

* * *

Dean sat at the coffee table of the motel room, head in his hands. Gabriel was sitting in the couch across from him, purple bruise swollen under the cold compress Sam had pressed into his hands minutes before. Red rimmed eyes flicked up to his occasionally, but otherwise the man didn't speak.

In all honesty, Dean didn't really want to talk anyways. A silence that should've been awkward ending up being uniting. They'd both lost one of the most important people in their lives, and mourning him together was the only thing Dean could think of doing.

Sam was on the bed, guns arrayed in front of him on a cloth. He only had managed to grab three when they left, along with two knives and a pair of handcuffs, but Dean knew that they had been lucky. Sam was cleaning them slowly, wiping cloths through the barrels until they were spotless. Bobby was on the other bed, head also in his hands. All of their stuff lay on the bed in front of him, along with his cap.

Nobody spoke.

The silence was broken by a small shift from Gabriel. The man ran a hand through his hair, looking like he was trying for the world to keep his emotions inside. _Dean_ got up, uncharacteristically pulling Gabriel into a hug.

"Shhh, shhhh." He said quietly into Gabriel's hair as the man began to sob. "Shhhhhhh."

Dean saw Sam angrily slam another piece into the gun in his hands, eyes sharp and also red. Bobby just sighed again, opening his mouth to speak.

A ring cut him off, and Gabriel flinched. Pulling out of Dean's hug, he reached inside of his pocket to grab a phone.

Sam got off of the bed when Gabriel dropped the phone, face going ashen as he stumbled back into the couch. He ran forward, grabbing the phone before Dean could see the screen.

Sam's face went as well, and both Bobby and Dean stood up. Wordlessly, Sam turned the screen towards them.

_Misha Calling _the screen read. Dean felt his stomach drop as the words sunk in, and he barely had time to catch up before Sam flipped it open.

"Who is this?"

* * *

_**Archived Records, Phone Account of Gabriel Richards. For private use only.**  
_

_**04/30/13, 4:07PM PST**_

_A: Who is this?_

_B: Hello, Sam._

_A: (Breathing) You bastard. _

_B: Hello, Sammy. I thought we've gone over name-calling?_

_A: I'm going to rip you apart. _

_B: Well, isn't that polite. And here I was being nice. _

_A: Why the fuck are you calling?_

_B: I'd like to concede the match. (Pause) You win._

_A: Win what?_

_B: This round. I didn't expect you to get out of the alley so quickly. Nice job leaving your friend's body there, by the way. I would've thought you'd have had more compassion than that, but hey. Maybe I really did get to you._

_A: You're sick. _

_B: I'm feeling quite fine, actually. So, in essence, I'm calling to gloat, truthfully. _

_A: (in background) Is that him? Is that the bastard? Tell him I'm going to fucking kill him!_

_B: I see you've got some excited friends. They must be a blast at parties._

_A: What do you want?_

_B: You. On a platter._

_A: Yeah, not going to happen. _

_B: Oh, I think it will. I think it'll happen soon._

_A: What the hell are you talking about?_

_B: (Click)_

_A: Luke! Answer me!_

_(In background) Did he hang up?_

_Gabriel, sit down-_

_Don't fucking tell me to sit down, I'm going to-_

_There's nothing we can do._

_He killed Misha._

_(pause)_

_I know._

_Then what are we supposed to do?_

_We're going to find him._

_Like hell we are-_

_I'm going to find him, and I'm going to make him wish he was dead. _

_God._

_(Pause)_

_I don't think God has anything to do with this. _

_-End Transmission-_

* * *

A/N Review?:)


	7. Chapter 7

A/N A short interlude because I found some time on the bus. Please enjoy.

* * *

_"Dean."_

He heard his name and looked up, instantly snapping to awareness. It was dark outside, but he'd fallen asleep with the lights on. He stood, confusion spreading through him as the door closed.

John stood in his room, eyes pink and glazed as he stared down at him. The room reeked of alcohol, wafting from John as he staggered dazedly over to the bed.

"Sir?" He asked, not moving even though every nerve in his body screamed at him to. "Sir?" He asked again when John didn't answer, wincing internally as John's breath hit him.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his chin, large enough to wrap all the way around. John's eyes were beady as he shoved him down into the bed, watching him the whole time.

"Dad..." He tried, growing nervous at the look in John's eyes. He tried to get up, but a hand like iron held him down.

John covered him on the bed, slamming down until he was pinned. A hot, bitter mouth covered his, muffling the surprised shout he let out.

_Dad._

John grabbed his hands and held them down, prosthetic leg bruising his shins as he leaned down, forcing his legs apart.

He was still wearing jeans, but that didn't seem to bother John. His body went from nervous to terrified as his jeans were ripped off of him, tearing along the already torn seams. John kept kissing him, dirty mouth wet and nauseating as it forced itself upon him.

He shut his eyes as John reached for his own fly, disgusted. Revolted, his body flinched. Bucking up, a sharp slap stung his face as he tried to push John away.

Suddenly, there was something hard and hot between his thighs. He tried to move his legs again, but John was like a statue above him, roughly yanking down his underwear.

No preparation, and suddenly John was in, driving a scream out of him. It hurt so bad, hurt like someone was cleaving him in half slowly. It didn't burn, it _ached_. Ached like someone had reached inside of him and pulled him apart, and he couldn't imagine how this was-

_Dad_

Rough thrusts increased the pain, trails of acid inside of him left behind. The headboard slammed sharply against the wall, but John didn't stop.

John let out a long groan as he thrust one last time, coming deep inside of him. He held that position forever, still stretching him to within an inch of his life.

John pulled out and rolled off of him, wobbling as he led the room like nothing had happened. He watched him go from the bed, finding blood staining the sheets as he glanced down.

_Dad._

* * *

Dean woke to the sound of retching, instantly rolling off the bed and staggering up.

Sam met his eyes from the bright doorway, shaking his head slowly as he rubbed Gabriel's back. The shorter man was bent over the toilet bowl, heaving dryly. Dean sighed and sat back down on the bed, rubbing the bags under his eyes as his sleep-deprived brain struggled to waken.

It'd been four days since they'd found Misha, and they'd been the longest four days of Dean's life. Every moment had stretched into another, bringing with it another memory. Another reminder, like the bruise Dean found in his knee two days ago, placed there by Misha's weak jab. He had almost broken down right then and there in the shower, hand clasped around his knee so tight another bruise was already swelling when he removed his hand.

But he didn't. He and Sam had to stay strong, because however bad it was for them, Gabriel was a thousand times worse.

Dean had struggled through his own grief the past few years, but he'd never had to help anyone else. He felt like he was walking on thin ice around Gabriel-as if one misstep would bring the man down. He didn't know what to say, how to touch, how to comfort, even. That had fallen to Sam, but Dean was trying to help.

Staring around the dark room, the edges of the room seemed to blur. He shook his head lightly, trying to stay awake as the sounds of comfort echoed from the small motel room bathroom. Finally, the toilet flushed and Sam appeared, Gabriel in tow.

Gabriel's bed was mussed, sheets thrown around in this night's nightmare. Pillows covered the floor, kicked off as Gabriel twisted and dreamed silently like every other night this last week.

Sam seemed to consider the bed, thin t shirt and pajama pants pale in the dim light. Gabriel was unsteady in Sam's grasp, wavering as he blinked through red rimmed eyes.

"Enough is enough." Sam said quietly, so quiet Dean only read the words from his lips. Frowning, he got up as Sam laid Gabriel down in the center of their bed.

Gabriel made a motion to get up, hand weakly pushing against the spread, but Sam pushed him down lightly, shushing him like a tired mother.

Dean'd confusion grew to surprise as Sam got into the bed on Gabriel's right, sliding under the sheets softly. He gestured for Dean to get in, motion slow and, as much as Dean would like to deny it, as if he were giving up.

Dean got into the bed without another thought, exhaustion creeping up on him. The sheets were cool as he laid down, Gabriel as motionless warmth next to him.

Sam threw a hand across Gabriel, interlocking it with Dean's as they formed a small web over the man. Gabriel shuddered once, breaking into silent sobs. Dean saw Sam slide another hand around Gabriel's waist, curling them both into the smaller man.

Gabriel sobbed brokenly into Sam's chest, so defeated and broken it was hard to remember the man he had been days before. Even Bobby had looked shocked at the difference in the man, wordlessly getting his own room next door so they could have privacy.

He knew, like Dean knew, that this wasn't normal heartbreak. This was a man's worst nightmare, the kind of blow that brought every man to his knees regardless of strength. The kind of pain that drove you either to drink or to give up, to wrench every emotion out of yourself and leave behind nothing.

Dean let silent tears of his own fall as Gabriel sobbed, because this was so much more than a movie or a book could capture death as.

Sam's hand tightened around his as they held each other close, mourning a man they'd never see again.

They stayed in that motel for another three days before moving again. Three states over the motels were still pretty much the same, though.

Sam sat in front if the window every day, gun within reach every minute. Gabriel slept, and Dean watched with Sam.

Bobby grabbed the room next to theirs again, but Dean knew he was restless. He couldn't return home, not now when Luke knew where they were.

The silence in the room was unnerving, broken only in the night time. Everyone was trying to give Gabriel some space, even though they were broken themselves.

On the fourth day in the second motel, Gabriel finally spoke. He'd been picking at food while Sam cleaned his guns for the umpteenth time, face pale and eyes dark.

"We can start now." He said simply, low pitched and hoarse from not speaking. Sam and Dean's heads turned quickly as they heard his voice, startled.

"Start what?" Dean asked cautiously, like he was talking to a frightened animal.

"Looking for Luke."

Sam shook his head, hope fleeing his eyes. "Gabriel, we can't. Not while you're..." He trailed off, waving a hand at him.

"Like what?" Gabriel spat, teeth bared. "Like this?" He asked, words vicious as he glared at Sam. "You got your fucking revenge already. I want mine."

Sam visibly paled, but kept wiping the gun down. Gabriel stood there, awaiting his response like a rebellious teenager.

"I'm sorry Gabriel." Sam said softly, looking up. "We can't. Not right now. You're not eating, you're still having nightmares. It's barely been a week."

Dean watched as Gabriel tensed, shoulders tightening. "You have no right." He said to Sam, eyes darkening.

"No right?" Sam asked, looking honestly confused. "Gabriel, this is for your own good!" He said, spreading his hands in a pleading gesture.

"For my own good?" Gabriel screamed. "Goddamn you, I know you know where he is!"

"Where Luke is?" Sam asked, standing up. "Gabriel, I have less of a clue than you do." He said defensively, eyes flashing with hurt.

"And why don't I believe you?" Gabriel asked, crossing his hands over his chest. His gold eyes held half of the intensity they'd had before, but they were still vicious.

Sam looked exasperated, throwing his hands up. "Gabriel, I haven't talked to him since that phone call. How could I know where he is?"

"You're hiding him." Gabriel snarled at him, taking a step forward. "You don't want him to get caught. That's an you let him go at the warehouse."

What Gabriel was saying was sounding crazy even to Dean, but he couldn't seem to move. It was like a car accident or a fist fight, where you couldn't look away even if you wanted to.

Sam gasped as Gabriel grabbed one of his knives from the table, holding it in front of him at Sam. He looked half-crazy, swaying a little as he walked forward.

"Tell me where he is. Now." He said desperately.

"I have no idea." Sam breathed, knife pressed between his collarbone. "Gabriel, please."

Gabriel's hand shook, but the knife stayed steady. A tear trickled down Sam's cheek as he pressed the knife deeper, but he made no sound.

When Sam didn't speak, a small cut appeared, red staining Sam's loose T-shirt.

"How can you even ask me this?" Sam asked, shuddering and voice unsteady. "Gabriel, please. Please."

Dean knew he could have the knife out of Gabriel's hands in a second when he was like this, but it seemed to be more of an apology than revenge.

"All of this time, it was always you. You were hurt, broken. And I helped you, God, I ripped my whole life apart for you. You killed, you learned, and I held you when you cried. I gave up everything for you, and it's your fault he's dead!" He screamed, throwing Sam back into the wall, knife still against his throat.

"Then kill me." Sam said softly, warning Dean with his eyes to stay back. "If it's all my fault, then put me out. S'il vous plaît, papa."

Gabriel gasped at his words, knife dropping from his hands. He leaned forward, falling into Sam's open arms as he broke down again. Dean watched as Sam held him, aching at the betrayal he saw in his lover's eyes.

They were on a long road to recovery, but Dean had the feeling Luke wasn't going to wait for them to finish it.

* * *

Brett was aimlessly turning pages as the man walked into the motel office, bored out of his mind. He barely had time to look up at the man before a gun was pointed at his head.

"Whoa, whoa!" He shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. "What the hell, man?"

The man in the black trench coat sighed, closing his eyes for a second before speaking.

"Which room are the three men staying in?"

Brett frowned, terrified and confused. "What three men?" He asked, feeling his bladder tighten in fear.

"One's tall, one's slightly shorter, one's really short." Evil-scary trench coat man sighed. "Any of this ringing a bell?'

Brett thought for a second, fear clouding his thoughts. "Oh yeah. They were here...yesterday?" He frowned, glancing over at the motel book.

"Yesterday? Did they leave?"

Brett nodded, very conscious of the gun still pointed at his head. "Yep."

"Did they say where they were going?"

"No." He said, voice shaking a little as the man's face grew furious.

"_Basie_." The man muttered under his breath. Taking a step forward, Brett didn't even see the muzzle flash as the man emptied the gun into his chest. Stalking out of the front door, the man left Brett on the floor as he grabbed a cell phone from his pocket.

"He's gone." Was all Brett heard before everything went black.

* * *

A/N I know, it's short. I promise an update later this week in exchange for reviews?:)


	8. Chapter 8

A/N Ah, another chapter? Anyone still out there? Bueler? Buuueler?

* * *

_**Archived Records, Phone Account of Gabriel Richards. For private use only. 05/08/13  
**_  
A: Hello?

B: (Pause) Well, isn't this a surprise. You're the last person I'd be expecting to get a phone call from.

A: (Unintelligible)

B: Oh, isn't that polite. How are you?

A: Fuck you.

B: Enough with pleasantries, then. I'm guessing you've called for a reason?

A: I want to make a trade.

B: A trade? (Laughter) You're kidding, right?

A: Do I sound like I'm kidding?

B: Not really, but I'm not seeing the motivation behind this. What do you have to trade, anyways?

A: I have Sam. I'll trade you Sam.

B: (Silence)

A: I know you want him. That's why you're following us around, right? For him.

B: And what would you want in return?

A: I want him gone.

B: That's not what I'm asking.

A: Fine. I want protection-none of your men can go after me, and I go where I want. You take him away and we never speak again.

B: (Laughter)

A: What?

B: It's just, you're the last person I'd ever think would say something like that. You've changed.

A: So have you.

B: No. No, not really. But anyways. How do you intend on completing our deal?

A: I have a plan. I'll text you the details.

B: I love a man with a plan. I guess I'll be seeing you. Ta, darling.

A: *Click*

_**End Transmission**_

* * *

"Gabriel. We need to move."

Sam shook the smaller man's shoulder, sitting gently on the bed beside him. Dean and Bobby were already outside, loading the truck with everything they owned-which at the moment wasn't much, but the gesture was appreciated.

Gabriel curled back into the pillow, dark circles even more prominent in sleep. A small sigh escaped him as Sam's hand touched his shoulder, but he made no move to get up.

Knowing how Gabriel had been the last few mornings, Sam grasped him under the knees and hauled him into his arms, carrying the man out to the car with some effort. He kicked the motel door closed behind him, precariously balancing for a second before continuing.

Grief was hard on the body as well as the mind.

Dean raised an eyebrow as Sam laid his mentor in the backseat, but said nothing. Bobby was already in the driver's seat, ball cap perched low over his face as the streetlights flooded the car.

"It's gonna rain." Dean said as Sam closed the car door, small smile on his face as he leaned against the car. It even smelled like rain, sweet and sharp. Out of the blue, a hand grasped the back of his neck, pulling him into a slow kiss.

When they broke apart, Sam stared at Dean intently. Wide green eyes gazed back, full of emotion. Wordlessly, Sam got into the passenger seat as Dean jumped into the back, crowding around Gabriel's limp form.

"Where to now?" Bobby asked grumpily, irritability obvious. "Ya wanna tell me why we're moving again?"

Sam shook his head with a small smile. "We really gonna have this argument again?" He asked honestly, staring at Bobby. The older man colored, glaring out the window with a harrumph. He stated the car, though, and they pulled out towards the highway overpass.

"So, another motel." Dean said. "Why the rush?"

Sam sighed, remembering the fear from before, after seeing the news article. There were probably one and a million chances he wouldn't have seen it, but they were only a few states away, and vicious small-town shootings almost always made the news.

"The last motel we were at." Sam started as Bobby turned them onto the highway. "There was a murder."

"So? It was some skanky-ass hotel anyway." Dean said in confusion.

"Professional." Sam clarified. Dean paled in the mirror, sitting back in the seat.

"Does this mean Luke's after us?" He asked after a second.

"We always had to assume." Sam said gravely, looking out the window. "Now all we can do is put ground between us and them."

"And what about Gabe?" Bobby asked surprisingly, voice soft. "What about his revenge?"

"Revenge isn't healthy." Sam said, realizing only after the words left his lips how obnoxious that sounded.

"I ain't sayin' it is." Bobby disagreed. "But what I am sayin' is that he's a time bomb that ya'll are ignoring."

Dean sighed this time, leaning forward to join.  
"I don't know what we're doing." He started, voice low. "I have no idea what we're supposed to do either. Someone might be chasing us, someone might not be. But fuck if I'm gonna let anything happen. You get me?"

Silence, and for once not the awkward kind.

* * *

_**Archived Text Records. For Private Use Only.**_

5:43 AM **We're heading through Chicago soon**  
5:47 AM When can we expect you?  
5:51 AM **Noon. I'll text you the motel address when we check in.**  
5:59 AM Remember our deal  
6:30 AM **I won't forget**

* * *

Marcy was popping her bubblegum as the news played behind her on the tiny flat screen, bored out of her mind. The motel lot was practically deserted this early in the morning, but the long hours gave her time to study, so it wasn't all bad. Her shift ended in a couple of hours, and by then she'd already be out for coffee with Kelsie. It was turning out to be a wet day, too, and god knows what that was doing to her hair.

She was just about to grasp one of the more complex formulas when the door opened with a chime. She looked up in slight annoyance, mouth dropping at what she saw there.

Two hot pieces of eye candy stood in the small lobby, soaking wet and flushed. She put her book down with the grace of an injured zebra in her rush to get to the register.

Flipping her hair and putting a broad smile on, she clicked her pen open. "Can I help you boys?"

The one on the right, blonde and with eyelashes she'd kill for, grinned a little, but deferred to the taller one. He brushed chocolate hair out of his eyes and gave her a small smile that revealed dimples she wanted to sink her teeth in.

"Two rooms please. One king, two queens." He said in a deep voice, tone polite but rich. She nodded, quickly tallying up the total (on a calculator while they watched her, Jesus) and gave them the price.

The taller one paid with a credit card, taking another step forward to hand her the card. Suddenly, the exchange was done and they were gone.

Breathing slightly quicker than normal, she realized she couldn't even remember what room she'd placed them in.

"Remind me why we're in Chicago again?" Dean asked as they walked out of the motel office, leaving the blushing check out girl behind.

"Gas and sleep." Sam said, sighing. "And because Gabriel and Bobby teamed up on staying. Something about safety in a larger city."

Dean frowned. "And that doesn't sound weird to you?" He questioned as they approached the car.

"Honestly? I'm just happy Gabriel's talking. If it means spending some time in the Windy City, I'm cool with that."

Dean shook his head, smiling ruefully. "I'd always thought I'd come here for something fun, or, you know, romantic."

Sam snorted, grabbing his hand and pulling him to a stop. "What, I'm not romantic enough for you?" He asked, twirling Dean in a little circle that left both of them laughing.

"With those dance skills, I dunno." Dean said, laughter tapering off as he glanced back at the car. The outlines of Bobby and Gabriel were easy to see through the glass, and it was obvious they were waiting for them.

Sam sighed. "Let's go." He said, but held onto Dean's hand as they walked forward.

"I'm looking forward to sleeping." Dean said, grinning devilishly.

"Why'd you think I got us a separate room?" Sam asked, an evil glint in his eyes.

"Evil man." Dean chided, but didn't protest as Sam's lips touched his neck. Sam laughed, vibrations running up Dean's body. Dean was about to reach up when Sam sighed again.

"Now it's really time to go." Sam said, pointing at where Bobby and Gabriel were impatiently getting out of the car to wait.

"Aww." Dean said, truly disappointed.

"Save it for later, sweet cheeks. Or we might freak out the check out girl." Sam said, walking up to the car and unloading their stuff. "Meet you in the room?"

"Hell yeah."

* * *

Lieutenant Noah Collins sat in the precinct after a long shift, uniform already unbuttoned and put away. All he was waiting for was the shitty coffee machine the precinct provided to make coffee, but of course it was being a bitch. Just because.

After about ten minutes, the damn thing finally gurgled and started making coffee. He grabbed his stuff and stood up, waiting for it to fill before walking out of the door.

The bitter coffee felt good, and lord knows he needed it to stay awake enough to get home. It was almost noon outside, and all of the other cops bustled around him as they went about their business. He ignored them as he jumped into his car, happy to finally go home, even though home was sort of cold and wife-free.

Ah, well. Life went on, and maybe that was why she left him. Noah didn't really care, even though he felt like he should.

His phone buzzed with a text half way through his ride home, and being the good citizen he was, he pulled over to read it. It was Joe Landsen, a reporter who he'd formed an off the record tip system with. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

_**Hey, man, anonymous tip for you. Someone seems to think -and this is really off record-Sam Reynard, crown prince of Belgium is in a motel a few miles from the precinct. I thinks it's a load of shit, but can you go check it out? A lot of the guys are heading there now and I don't want some innocent guy to get woken up and abused by the harpies. Thanks man.**_

There was an address below, a familiar motel he'd see on the drive to work before. Confused, he texted a quick "okay" back before turning the car into the right lane.

Well, sure he'd like to drive to some random motel and make sure the fucking crown prince wasn't there. Yeah, he'd love to.

* * *

Sam woke groggily to the sound of a broken fan, blades slamming against something metal inside the bathroom. With a groan, he rolled out of Dean's arms and walked over to look at it.

Two minutes of tired-staring later, he was no closer to figuring out what was wrong with it. Shaking Dean awake, he spoke softly.

"Hey, the fan's broken."

Dean groaned, rolling over. "Whaa?"

"I'm gonna go ask for maintenance at the front desk."

Dean was awake at those words, rolling off the bed and standing up. "I'll go with you." He said, fumbling into the pair of discarded jeans on the floor. Sam smiled as he put a t shirt on, remembering last night fondly. When they'd gotten their shoes on, they faced the bright noon with a lot of muffled cursing and squinting.

Sam guided them to the motel office, noting the strange amount of cars parked around the lot. Dean stumbled ahead of him, though, so he rushed to catch him before they both entered the office.

What happened next was like a whirlwind. Sam saw the girl who checked them in talking slowly with a reporter, a picture in his hand. Just as lights started flashing, Sam realized it was his.

Dean swore as the cameras rushed forward, cries of "is it him?" And "It's Reynard!" heard as he ducked his head. Sam covered Dean with his body, trying to manically avoid any eye contact with the cameras.

A microphone was shoved into his face, reminiscent of the last time they'd faced reporters. Sam quickly took a step back, trying to work them out the door as quickly as possible.

"Mr. Reynard!" Someone shouted, but Sam could barely focus. A good looking anchor was smiling into the camera, and Sam's blood ran cold as he heard "...with Dean Winchester, a previously unknown-"

Dean curled into Sam's arms with a surprised note of pain, and Sam was about to grab the gun at his hop and fire when a hand grasped his shoulder firmly.

"Come with me." A tall man with dark hair and familiar blue eyes said, voice cutting through the cameras and the madness. He put hands on both of their heads (no small feat) and led them over to a idling car. Trusting the only option they had (who had sharp elbows, they discovered) Sam put Dean in the car first before jumping in, telling the man to hit it.

The men in the back of Noah's car were quiet as they sped away from the motel lot. The man on the left kept dialing someone on his phone, anxiety obvious as they didn't pick up.

"Gabriel's cell not on?" The shorter one asked, face worried. The taller one shook his head, dialing another number before he could answer. Relief smoothed both of their faces as they got an answer.

"Bobby where's Gabe?" The taller one asked. His face paled as whoever Bobby was answered. He shut the phone a second later. fury overtaking his features.

"What? What?" The shorter one asked nervously.

"Dean, he's gone. He left." The taller one said, defeated. "He fucking drugged Bobby."

"What?" Dean exclaimed, turning around to crane his neck out the window. "We need to go back!"

"Y'all can't go back." Noah said, finally speaking. They blinked at him for a second, as if they hadn't remembered he was there.

Sure enough, Dean cocked an eyebrow at him. "Who are you? And why are we in the back of your car?"

"You're Sam, right?" He asked the taller one, meeting hazel eyes in the mirror. "The prince?"

There was a small flinch, but he nodded.  
"And you are?" He asked, accent slipping ever so deliberately, enriching his voice.

"Noah Collins at your service, sir." He said proudly. "We had a tip you were going to be here."

"A tip?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Someone knew you two were coming. I'd be worried about who you've talked to."

Sam shook his head, desperation obvious. "It's Gabriel, Dean. I know it. He did this on purpose. Fuck."

"Are you sure?" Dean asked, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Jesus."

Sam turned to Noah, eyes flinty.

"How fast can you get downtown?"

* * *

A/N Reviews are candy, and I am a secret sugar-addict? :)


	9. Chapter 9

A/N This chapter is devoted to my fabulous beta, who rocks my world every single day. I know I've been terrible about updating this story and you have really pushed me through it, so thanks. This chapter is also devoted to LeeMarieJack and Stryder2008 who were amazing and didn't give up on me. That you guys so much-you have no idea how much your PMs and reviews helped.

Please enjoy!

* * *

_Luke remembered the first time he'd spotted Samuel Reynard, his Prince._

_Had branded it into his mind, actually-how his eyes had shone, how his laugh echoed past him and down the halls. How light seemed to follow him, shroud him like the warmest of blankets._

_Luke had known right away what he wanted. He wanted that warmth for his own, to wrap himself in Samuel and die happy. He could hardly resist the base urge to run forward, to clasp the God's knees and bend to his will, his beauty. He didn't question the sudden fascination or devotion, had given into it like a tree bending in storm._

_Samuel made his way over and Luke watched every step, every blink and breath. He wanted to scream._

_"Hello." He said instead, bowing slightly, and Samuel had flashed him the brightest of smiles, white teeth flashing with his tip-tilted eyes._

_"It's a pleasure to meet you, Luke." Samuel said, accent rich around his perfect English. The other advisors were of mixed origin, resulting in the language's usage. Luke had hated the tongue up until that moment, but a mere few words from Sam had changed that._

_It hadn't even been more than a quick, customary meeting, but Luke had wanted more. Samuel had no official business with his father's advisors, but everyone knew he'd rule as king one day._

_Luke had loved to sit in bed and imagine that day. Samuel would be tall, taller than ever with that crown on his head, gold like his heart and soul-shining so brightly.  
Sam would be the best king of all. Powerful, kind and magnificent._

_It took his breath away sometimes._

_He'd watched the next few months, seen the smaller signs of change, had seen Gabriel's influence from day one. Samuel grew strong and independent under his master, polite and confident and magnificent. He walked the halls with ease, along with Luke's heart._

_He was grateful to the doctor, for he had made Sam his. His life, his soul, his devotion._

_Amen._

* * *

Gabriel felt only partially guilty as he jammed the fan in Sam and Dean's room, which spoke wonders about his current mental state. He stayed only long enough to see them fall into his trap, but even that had been painful.

Bobby had been sleeping when he started, and a hypodermic needle took care of the older man far easier than Gabriel would've liked to admit. The imminent wave of guilt hadn't threatened as he threw the needle out, but it was silly to believe it wouldn't come crashing down upon him sooner or later. He'd poisoned Bobby, lied, threw Sam and Dean to the dogs and ducked out before any of it could touch him.

At a certain point down the sidewalk he had to stop and repress the urge to scream, fists clenching. Everything he'd done felt like betrayal, like acid burned through his palms to the bone. The only way he managed the twenty feet to the car was through sheer determination, forcing each step even as his heart screamed in anguish.

He could only hope that his text to Misha's brother had gone through. Sam and Dean didn't deserve what the media had in store for them, but it had been the only way to keep them safe. Hassled, sure, but as far away from Luke as possible and in good hands.

Luke was no fool, hadn't been before all of this, and his fixation on Sam needed to end. Through whatever means necessary. Through whatever means Gabriel was willing to.

He cringed at the thought, ducking his head as he hopped into the car he'd acquired the night prior. He was no betrayer, but he knew he would never be forgiven for this.  
He sat there for what felt like forever, which ended up only being five minutes. It was strange how a lifetime could be summed up in so quickly, events remembered, cherished and forgotten in seconds. Gabriel didn't have much to show for his life, had lost maybe the only person who had ever meant anything to him, so maybe this would be it-how it all ended.

Gabriel would do everything he could to prove he'd cared. If it meant giving himself up to one of the most sadistic people he'd ever met, then do be it. He'd pretend to deal for Sam, pretend to betray his friend even further, hoping to god Luke wouldn't ever get the chance to find him.

Cellphone clenched in hand, he texted Luke and waited.

* * *

_I'm on my way now_.

Luke smiled and settled further into his chair, warming his hands at the small wood fire. The smell of ash was like victory to him as he set the cell phone down and closed his eyes.

* * *

"Downtown?" Noah asked Sam, maneuvering through traffic as best he could, giving the prince a dubious look through the mirror. "Kid, this is Chicago. You're gonna be lucky if we can get there within the next decade."

"I know. I used to live here." Sam looked resigned, leaning back with a sigh. "Is there any way we could hop the train south?"

"Why south?" This was Dean, the other man.

Noah looked up just in time to see Sam biting his lip. "We used to have a safe house down here a while ago." Noah felt his curiosity rise as the prince paused. "We don't use it anymore."

Dean nodded as if this were normal, eyes locking with Noah's in the mirror as if in challenge. "South then? You feel like breaking some rules, Uncle Leo?"

Noah frowned at the kid's tone, a wave of irritation (that was probably just exhaustion) passing over him. "I'm only here to keep you guys safe. In fact, I shouldn't even be driving you _anywhere_. We need to get you back to the precinct, figure out what the Hell's going on."

"We're going to lose someone really important very soon if we don't move fast." Sam said quickly, voice stone-cold. "Either you take us to the south side or you pull over and I drive. I'm not going to ask again."

Noah swallowed at his tone. "You do realize threatening a federal officer is illegal."

It was Dean who spoke this time. "I don't give a damn. Make your choice now, or we will. This hasn't been the sanest of weeks for us, and we're armed."

Noah's eyes bugged out at that, but he said nothing. The traffic was growing thick behind them so he put on a burst of speed, overtaking a minivan and finishing the maneuver. He sighed, closing his eyes briefly and praying he was doing the right thing.

"Fine. Give me the address and we'll get there as fast as possible. But you tell me what's going on or I stop right here."

The prince looked relieved, but that could've just been the light. "Fine."

Dean spoke up. "Sam-"

"I said fine. It's okay." Something about his tone made Noah glance up into his mirror, but the prince was expressionless. He put a hand on his knee, joined by Dean's a second later. Noah restrained a gasp as the pieces fell together, curiosity peaking as he sped them down the highway and listened to Sam begin his story.

* * *

Gabriel made his way into their old home slowly, hating that Luke had insisted on arriving first. It may not have been the happiest of times, but the old one story house had been a more than welcome home to Sam and himself for close to a full year, the longest they'd stayed in one place. Just being outside brought up near-painful memories: The first time Sam had tried soda on the porch, the ice cream he'd bought them both when the memories got to be too much.

He tried to shake off all of those feelings as he climbed up the steps, wincing as they creaked beneath his feet. He'd tried to paint them once when the paint had chipped away so badly it looked liked it'd been scratched off.

One last memory. Sam had gouged it up the second he'd gotten home that day, exhausted from handling kids and blind to what Gabriel had (nearly) accomplished. He'd been so angry at the time, but now he knew better. Nothing had ever been permanent for them; Why would paint be?

Afternoon light hit the door as he pushed it open. There were no lights on inside the dim house, which made Gabriel tense even further. Luke had always had a flair for the dramatics. If he didn't know better (which he really didn't) he'd find the man petting a white cat in the rolling chair Gabriel used to keep in the study.

The smell of a wood fire hit him a moment later and his body turned, instinctively pointing to the study where he and Sam had spent countless nights huddled next to the fireplace. He pushed the last door open and squared his shoulders, finding Luke's eyes almost immediately and praying to god this worked.

* * *

Dean tried to be as comforting as possible during the drive south, but Sam was nearly in a world of his own, confessing his sins to a man they barely knew through oddly eloquent sentences and glances through the rear view mirror. Dean could feel how every word strained him, felt the tense of his back against Dean, saw the lines around his mouth tighten and the sorrow in his eyes deepen as he recounted Misha's death.  
He also saw the love in Sam's eyes whenever he spoke of Gabriel. He blushed when Sam glossed over Dean's part in all of this, loving the emotion in Sam's gaze and hating the situation they were in that much more.

"I think Gabriel is going to deal with Luke." He finished, eyes cast downwards, to where Dean still held his hand. "I think Misha's death was too much for him." He trailed off, wordless as he glanced out of the window. "So there. We need to find him before he does what I think he's going to do, because if I don't...If _we _don't..."

Dean squeezed his hand tighter, leaning his head back into Sam's shoulder and offering comfort.

"I think if we don't, I don't know what I'll do. So there." He repeated. "That's your story. Happy?"

The police officer looked cowed in the front seat, glancing shyly and almost respectfully at Sam through the mirror. He cleared his throat awkwardly, breaking the short silence.

"That's quite a story."

Dean felt anger flare within him. "Is that supposed to be funny?" He didn't know what he'd do if the cop laughed this off...steal Sam's gun, pull the car over...

"No. No!" The man nearly shouted. "It's just...Jesus. The number it must have done on the two of you. I just can't believe how much you've suffered through. Is this, this Gabriel person worth saving if it hurts this much?"

"Yes." Sam and Dean said at the same time, expression a perfect match. That seemed to appease the cop, who flicked on a pair of sunglasses a second later, hiding red ringed eyes from the unrelenting sun.

Dean pulled Sam closer as they sped past more and more houses, knowing deep down somehow it _would_ be worth it, even if it didn't seem so now.

* * *

"Luke."

"Richards." The other man smiled slowly, lips dragging over white teeth, revealing the reptile smile he had been so well know for. He gestured towards the old chairs in front of the fireplace, the ever-polite host. "Please sit."

Gabriel squared his shoulders, slyly checking on the other men in the room out of the corner of his eye. "I'd rather stand, thanks."

Luke shrugged, nearly perching in his seat. He wore a dark suit, sharp lines elegant in the large, dim room. This had always been Gabriel's favorite room in the house, full, rich and out of time. To see Luke inside of it was his own fault, but still so painful.  
He waited for Luke to launch into his breakdown of Gabriel's efforts and to monologue about his evil plan. Gabriel had honestly half expected manic laughter as he signed his soul away, but Luke was silent. Nobody spoke, and the only noise was the crackle of the wood in the fire.

"So..." Gabriel swallowed, wetting his lips. "Are we going to..."

Luke tilted his head. "To what? I thought you went to college, DOCTOR. Can't finish a sentence?"

Gabriel felt the anger rise up inside of him but quelled it, fixing Luke with the most terrifying glare he could muster. "I'm here. Ready to deal, like you wanted. Unless you're having second thoughts?"

Luke's face darkened as he unfolded himself from the chair, rising above Gabriel effortlessly. "Watch your tone."

"Excuse me, then." Gabriel said, only half faking the annoyance. He hadn't come here for grand standing and games. "I'll just leave then, if you weren't in the MOOD." He couldn't seem to keep his mouth shut, a fire building inside of him as a part of his mind recognized Luke as the cause of all of Gabriel's pain. This was the man who killed Misha. This was a man who needed someone to talk back to him for once in his life. And Gabriel had been born with his mouth going.

"They make pills for that, you know." A small part of him rejoiced as Luke's cheeks flushed. "It's actually a problem more common than you think. One in-"

Gabriel barely stopped talking as the slap rocked his body, sending flashes across his body. "-five men will experience it in their lifetime. But it's okay-I'm here. I'm sure you'll have no problems now. So why don't we talk business?"

Another vicious slap slammed into him, pain flaring even more as Luke dragged his fingernails down his cheek. "You fool," The taller man spat, breathing heavily. "Did you ever really think I was going to deal with you?"

Gabriel felt like someone had sucker-punched him in the stomach. His whole body went numb. "What?"

"Did you honestly come here thinking your betrayals would be worth it?" Luke smiled at him. "You have no pull in this game. This is between me and Sam. Thinking you controlled anything at all was ignorant thinking at best, Doctor."

"You're lying." Gabriel whispered, feeling blood coat his face as the cuts bled.  
Luke made a face, shrugging. "What can I say? You should've expected this. Now you're bait." He sighed, shaking his head at Gabriel and returning to his seat. He waved at the guards.

"Restrain him."

Gabriel stared straight at Luke as they handcuffed him, putting every ounce of anger he had into it. "Sam won't come. He doesn't even know where I am."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. See, I did my homework. I know why you chose this old house. This was one of the places you stayed the longest. Somewhere Sam would remember."

"Sam would never come here. It'd be one of the last places he'd check."

Luke let out a sharp burst of laughter at that. "Are you really that stupid, Gabriel?" It was the first time he'd called him by his first name. "You practically led him here. He's smarter than you, you know. Smarter than me, maybe, but differently. He has a heart."

"You don't." Gabriel hissed at him. "Big surprise, Mr. Villain."

"Names don't mean a thing to me." Luke grabbed what looked like a glass of bourbon from behind the chair. "Regardless. Now we wait."

"You bastard. What the hell do you need Sam for?!"

Luke chuckled softly, taking a long drink. "I want him."

"You're sick."

Luke shrugged again, eyes glinting as Gabriel was forced into a kneeling position. "I'm honest. That's more than you can say right now."

* * *

Dean felt the moment they reached the house rather than saw it, hand caught in an iron grip as Sam set eyes on the place. The police officer pulled the car to a stop a few houses away, turning the engine off and waiting.

Sam took a deep breath and opened the door, unfolding from the car and reaching a hand in to help Dean out. "Let's go."

Surprisingly, the cop followed a few paces ahead of them, oddly protective of Sam. Dean felt something almost akin to annoyance at this but relented, squeezing Sam's shoulder once as they followed. It was all he could give.

Sam flinched the second they entered, and Den frowned as the scent hit him. Wood fire.

"They're in the study."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

Sam waved a hand in the air as the cop frowned back at them. "Fireplace. Only one in the house."

The cop had his gun out now, but Sam seem to want to draw his. "Which way?"  
Sam pointed and they were off, sneaking through the house without reason to. Dean watched wide-eyed as Sam stopped in front of the last door on the left, shoulders tensing.

He pushed it in one move, throwing open the door to reveal a large, high-ceilinged old study. Dean watched as Luke unfolded from the center chair, but his words were silent in his ears as his eyes were pulled to another man in the shadows to the left. He felt his heart freeze in his chest as a familiar pair of brown eyes found his, stumbling a step backwards as he fought the urge to vomit.

There John Winchester stood, alive and well.

"Dad?!"

* * *

A/N Leave me a review?:)


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